THE ELEMENTS OF
DRAWlKfG
■By
JOHN RUSKIN
WITH 48 ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN BY
THE AUTHOR
LONDON
m
^GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, Limited
L New York: E. P. DUTTON & CO
4 »
advertisement to the
SECOND EDITION
As one or two questions, asked of me since the
publication of this work, have indicated points re-
quiring elucidation, I have added a few short notes,
in the first Appendix. It is not, I think, desirable
otherwise to modify the form or add to the matter
of a book as it passes through successive editions.
I have, therefore, only mended the wording of some
obscure sentences ; with which exception the text
remains, and wUl remain, in its original
I had carefully considered. Should the public hud
the book useful, and call for further editions o it,
such additional notes as may be necessary will be
always placed in the first Appendix, where they can
be at once ref erred to, in any Library, by the posses-
sors of the earlier editions ; and I will take caic
they shall not be numerous.
August 3, 18^.
PREFACE
It may perhaps be thought, that in prefacing a
manual of drawing, I ought to expatiate on the
reasons why drawing should be learned ; but those
reasons appear to me so many and so weighty, that
I cannot quickly state or enforce them. With the
reader’s permission, as this volume is too large
already, I will waive all discussion respecting the
importance of the subject, and touch only on those
points which may appear questionable in the method
of its treatment.
In the first place, the book is not calculated for
the use of children under the age of twelve or fourteen.
I do not think it advisable to engage a child in any
but the most voluntary practice of art. If it has
talent for drawing, it will be continually scrawling
on what paper it can get ; and should be allowed to
scrawl at its own free will, due praise being given for
every appearance of care, or truth, in its efforts. It
should be allowed to amuse itself with cheap colours
almost as soon as it has sense enough to wish for them.
If it merely daubs the paper with shapeless stains,
the colour-box may be taken away till it knows
better : but as soon as it begins painting red coats
on soldiers, striped flags to ships, etc,, it should
have colours at command ; and, without restrain-
ing its choice of subject in that i^iaginative and
historical art, of a military tendency, which children
delight in (generally quite as valuable, by the way,
as any historical art delighted in by their elders),
it should be gently led by the parents to try to draw,
in such childish fashion as may be, the things it can
see and likes — birds, C)r butterflies, or flowers, or
fruit. In later years, the indulgence of using the
colour should only be granted as a reward, after it
hsR shown care and progress in its drawings with
pencil. A limited number of good and amusing
prints should always be within a boy’s reach : in
XT
PREFACE
these days of
a volume of “" 5 ^®^^'“,®® 'll to copy what he likes
1‘’ f ttifkhid® “utTho^uld be firmly restricted to
■best of tills kind , om snu ^ ^
a and break them ; if a
toys, it Will get T-ireu uiw rnerelv dawdle and
fl^TlLS n is by thT SrStation of the
scrawl over tnem , it ^ y . ^ig^^sure in them
number of his The
is perfected. ?h™Xs“o t?S to instruct^
parents need .5^ Rawing is concerned, beyond
Slsti"’ upon —
colours and paper, , » r take notice
“Sf*f;SS"ipS-5g
sflSIlsissf
should kard work ; otherwise they
H“H\^^tToolLrpSl^So1ts"h"^^^
[iripendtk "\Tl?ou?“e of Ywdvt ‘or
-K-n Sis:
^0^ ?^rise° fsLg
to know sOTiething of the first principles of art.
Y?t observe, that the method of study recom-
irnnt brought forward as absolutely the
bel^ but only as thfbest which I can at present
devL for ^ isolated student.. It is very likely
fw farther exptrience in teaching may enable me
to modifrit with advantage in sever^ important
TMoeots • hut I am sure the mam pnnciples of it are
Sd alid most of the exercises as useful as thAj
STbe rra dered without a master’s superintendence
The method difiers. however, so
generaUy adopted by drawing-masters, that a word
PREFACE
vii
I
or two of explanation may be needed to justify what
might otherwise be thought wilftd eccentricity.
The manuals at present published on the sub-
ject of drawing are all directed, as far as I know,
to one or other of two objects. Either they pro-
pose to give the student a power of dexterous sketch-
ing with pencil or water-colour, so as to emulate (at
considerable distance) the slighter work of our second
rate artists ; or they propose to give him such
accurate command of mathematical forms as may
afterwards enable him to design rapidly and cheaply
for manufactures. When drawing is taught as an
accomplishment, the first is the aim usually proposed ;
while the second is the object kept chiefly in view at
Marlborough House, and in the branch Government
Schools of Design.
Of the fitness of the modes of study adopted in
those schools, to the end specially intended, judg-
ment is hardly yet possible ; only, it seems to me,
that we are all too much in the habit of confusing
art as applied to manufacture, with manufacture
itself. For instance, the skill by which an inven-
tive workman designs and moulds a beautiful cup,
is skill of true art ; but the skill by which that cup
is copied and afterwards multiplied a thousandfold,
is skill of manufacture : and the faculties which
enable one workman to design and elaborate his
original piece, are not to be developed by the same
system of instruction as those which enable another to
produce a maximum number of approximate copies
of it in a given time. Farther : it is surely inex-
pedient that any reference to purposes of manufac-
ture should interfere with the education of the artist
himself. Try first to manufacture a Raphael ; then
let Raphael direct your manufacture. He will
design you a plate, or cup, or a house, or a palace,
whenever you want it, and design them in the most
convenient and rational way ; but do not let your
anxiety to reach the platter and the cup interfere
with your education of the Raphael. Obtain first
the best work you caji, and the ablest hands, irre-
spective of any consideration of economy or facility
of production. Then leave your trained artist to
^termine how far art can be popularized, or manu-
facture ennobled.
Now, I believe that (irrespective of differences in
individual temper and character) the excellence of
viii
PREFACE
an artist, as such, depends wholly on refinement of
perception, and thiit it is this, mainly, which a master
or a school can teach ; so that while powers of inven-
tion distinguish man from man, powers of perception
distinguish school from school. All great schools
enforce delicacy of drawing and subtlety of sight :
and the only rule which I have, as yet, found to be
without exception respecting art, is that all great art
is delicate.
Therefore, the chief aim and bent of the follow-
ing system is to obtain, first, a perfectly patient,
and, to the utmost of the pupil’s power, a delicate
method of work, such as may ensure his seeing truly.
For I am nearly convinced, that when once %ve see
keenly enough, there is very little difficulty in drawing
what we see ; but, even supposing that this difficulty
be still great, I believe that the sight is a more impor-
tant thing than the drawing ; and I would rather
teach drawing that my pupils may learn to love
Nature, than teach the looking at Nature that they
may learn to draw. It is surely also a more impor-
tant thing, for young people and unprofessional
students, to know how to appreciate the art of others,
than to gain much power in art themselves. Now the
modes of sketching ordinarily taught are inconsistent
with this power of judgment. No person trained to
the superficial execution of modern water-colour paint-
ing, can understand the work of Titian or Leonardo ;
they must for ever remain blind to the refinement
of such men’s pencilling, and the precision of their
thinking. But, however slight a degree of manipula-
tive power the student may reach by pursuing the
mode recommended to him in these letters, I will
answer for it that he cannot go once through the
advised exercisfis without beginning to understand
what masterly work means ; and, by the time he has
gained some proficiency in them, he will have a pleasure
in looking at the painting of the ,^eat schools, and a
new perception of the exquisiteness of natural
scenery, such as would repay him for much more
labour than I hav® asked hirp to undergo.
That labour is, nevertheless, sufficiently irk-
some, nor is it possible that it should be otherwise,
so long as the pupil works unassisted by a mastm.
For the smooth and straight road which admits
unembarrassed progress must, I fear, be dull as well
as smooth ; and the hedges need to be close and
PREFACE
IX
tiim when there is no guide to warn or bring back the
erring traveller. The system followed in this work
will, therefore, at first, surprise somewhat sorrow-
fully those who are familiar with the practice of our
class at the Working Men’s College ; for there, the
pupil, having the master at his side to extricate him
from such embarrassments as his first efforts may
lead into, is at once set to draw from a solid object, and
soon finds entertainment in his efforts and interest in
his difficulties. Of course the simplest object which
it is possible to set before the eye is a sphere ; and,
practically, I find a child’s to 3 % a white leather ball,
better than anything else ; as the gradations on balls
of plaster of Paris, 'which I use sometimes to try the
strength of pupils who have had previous practice,
are a little too delicate for a beginner to perceive.
It has been objected that a circle, or the outline of a
sphere, is one of the most difficult of all lines to draw.
It is so^ ; but 1 do not want it to be drawm. Ail that
his study of the ball is to teach the pupil, is the "way
in which shade gives the appearance of projection.
This he learns most satisfactorily from a sphere ;
because any solid form, terminated by straight lines
of fiat surfaces, owes some of its appearance of
projection to its perspective ; but in the sphere,
what, without shade, "was a fiat circle, becomes, merely
by the added shade, the image of a solid ball ; and
this fact is just as striking to the learner, whether
his circular outline be true or false. He is, therefore,
never allowed to trouble himself about it ; if he
makes the ball look as oval as an egg, the degree of
error is simply pointed out to him, and he does better
next time, and better still the next. But his mind is
always fixed on the gradation of shade, and the out-
line left to take, in due time, care o^ itself. I call it
outline, for the sake of immediate intelligibility —
strictly speaking, it is merely the edge of the shade ;
no pupil in my class being ever allowed to draw an
outline, in the ordinary sense. It is pointed out to
him, from the first, that Nature relieves one mass, or
one tint, against another ; but outlines none. The
outline exercise, the second suggested in this letter,
is recommended, not to enable the pupil to draw out-
Hnes, but as the only means by which, unassisted, he
can test his accuracy of eye, and discipline his hand.
When the master is by, errors in the form and extent
of shadows can be pointed out as easily as in out-
t Or, more accurately, appears to be so, because
any one can see an error in a circle.
X
PREFACE
r
(■'
line, and the handling can be gradually corrected
in details of the W(?>rk. But the solitary student can
only find out his own mistakes by help of the traced
limit, and can only test the firmness of his hand by
an exercise in which nothing but firmness is required ;
and during which all other considerations (as of soft-
ness, complexity, etc.) are entirely excluded.
Both the system adopted at the Working Men’s
College, and that recommended here, agree, _ however,
in one principle, which I consider the most important
and special of all that are involved in my teaching :
namely, the attaching its full importance, from the
first, to local colour. 1 believe that the endeavour
to separate, in the course of instruction, the observa-
tion of light and shade from that of local colour, has
always been, and must always be, destructive of the
student’s power of accurate sight, and that it cor-
rupts his taste as much as it retards his progress. 1
will not occupy the reader’s time by any discussion
of the principle here, but I wish him to note it as the
only distinctive one in my system, so far as it is a
system. For the recommendation to the pupil to
copy faithfully, and without alteration, whatever
natural object he chooses to study, is serviceable,
among other reasons, just because it gets rid of
systematic rules altogether, and teaches people to
draw, as country lads learn to ride, without saddle
or stirrups ; my main object being, at first, not to
get my^ pupils to hold their reins prettily, but to * sit
like a jackanapes, never off
In these written instructions, therefore, it has
always been with regret that I have seen myself
forced to advise anything like monotonous or formal
discipline. But, to the unassisted student, such
formalities are ij^dispensable, and I am not without
hope that the sense of secure advancement, and the
pleasure of independent efiort, may render the follow-
ing out of even the more tedious exercises here pro-
posed, possible to the solitary learner, without weari-
ness. But if it should be otherwise, and he finds the
first steps painfully irksome, 1 |jan only desire him to
consider whether the acquirement of so great a power
as that of pictorial expression of thought be not
worth some toil ; or whether it is likely, in th^
natural order of matters in this working world, thac
so great a gift should be attainable by those who will
give no price for it.
PREFACE
xi
One task, however, of some difficulty, the student
wEi find I have not imposed i^on him : namely,
learning the laws of perspective. It would be worth
while to learn them, if he could do so easily ; but
without a master’s help, and in the way perspective
is at present explained in treatises, the difficulty is
greater than the gain. For perspective is not of the
slightest use, except in rudimentary work. You can
draw the rounding line of a table in perspective, but
you cannot draw the sweep of a sea bay ; you can
foreshorten a log of wood by it, but you cannot fore-
shorten an arm. Its laws are too gross and few to
be applied to any subtle form ; therefore, as you must
learn to draw the subtle forms by the eye, certainly
you may draw the simple ones. No great painters
ever trouble themselves about perspective, and very
few of them know its laws ; they draw everything
by the eye, and, naturally enough, disdain in the easy
parts of their work rules which cannot help them
in difficult ones. It would take about a month’s
labour to draw imperfectly, by laws of perspective,
what any great Venetian will draw perfectly in five
minutes, when he is throwing a wreath of leaves round
a head, or bending the curves of a pattern in and
out among the folds of drapery. It is true that when
perspective was first discovered, everybody amused
themselves with it ; and all the great^ painters put
fine saloons and arcades behind their madonnas,
merely to show that they could draw in perspective :
but even this was generally done by them only to
catch the public eye, and they disdained the perspec-
tive so much, that though they took the greatest
pains with the circlet of a crown, or the rim of a crystal
cup, in the heart of their picture, they would twist
their capitals of columns and towers of churches
about in the background in the most wanton way,
wherever they liked the lines to go, provided only they
left just perspective enough to please the public.
In modern days, I doubt if any artist among us, except
David Roberts, knows so much perspective as would
enable him to draw a Gothic arch to scale at a given
angle and distance. ■ Turner, tffough he was pro-
fessor of perspective to the Royal Academy, did not
know what he professed, and never, as far as
1 remember, drew a single building in true
perspective in his life ; he drew them only with
as much perspective as suited him. Prout also knew
PREFACE
nothing of perspective, and twisted his buildings,
as Turner did, into whatever shapes he liked. I
do not justify this ; and would recommend the
student at least to treat perspective with common
civility, but to pay no court to it. The best way
he can learn it, by himself, is by taking a pane of
glass, fixed in a frame, so that it can be set upright
before the eye, at the distance at which the pro-
posed sketch is intended to be seen. Let the eye be
placed at some fixed point, opposite the middle of the
pane of glass, but as high or as low as the student
likes ; then with a brush at the end of a stick, and a
little body-colour that will adhere to the glass, the
lines of the landscape may be traced on the glass, as
you see them through it. When so traced they are
all in true perspective. If the glass be sloped in any
direction, the lines are still in true perspective, only
it is perspective calculated for a sloping plane, while
common perspective always supposes the plane of the
picture to be vertical. It is good, in early practice,
to accustom yourself to enclose your subject, before
sketching it, with a light frame of wood held upright
before you ; it will show you what you may legiti-
mately take into your picture, and what choice there
is between a narrow foreground near you, and a wide
one farther off ; also, what height of tree or building
you can properly take in, etc.
Of figure drawing, nothing is said in the following
pages, because I do not think figures, as chief subjects,
can be drawn to any good purpose by an amateur.
As accessaries in landscape, they are just to be drawn
on the same principles as anything else.
Lastly, if any of the directions given subsequently
to the student should be found obscure by him, or
if at any stage the recommended practice he find
himself In difficulties which I have not enough pro-
vided against, he may apply by letter to Mr. Ward,
who is my under drawing-master at the Working
Men’s College (45, Great Ormond Street), and who
will give any required assistance, on the lowest
terms that can remunerate him for the occupation
of his time. I ha*ve not leisure myself in general
to answer letters of inquiry, however much I may
desire to do so ; but Mr. Ward has always the power
of referring any questions to me when he thinks if'
necessary. I have good hope, however, that enough
guidance is given in this work to prevent the occur-
PREFACE
xiii
rence any serious embarrassment ; and I believe
that the student who obeys its (|irections will find,
on the whole, that the best answer of questions is
perseverance ; and the best drawing-masters are the
woods and hills.
[1857].
CONTENTS
Sketching from Nature
On Colour and Composition
INDEX
$
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Plate A Illustrations
I, 2 , 3
FACE
PAGE
8
„ B
5 •
24
„ c
6, 7 •
. 60
B
8, 9, lo
. 64
E
II, 12 .
. 78
F
13 . 14 . 15 •
82
G
i6, 17, 18 .
. 86
.. H
20
. front .
I
19, 21, 22, 23
. 108
„ J
24, 25, 26, 27, 28
. 120
„ K
29. 30> 31. 32
. 182
„ L
33. 35 . 3 ^ •
. 194
, „ M
34
, 198
„ N
37 . 38. 39 . 40. 41.
42 204
» 0
43. 44 . 45. 46
. 208
„ P
00
212
XVI
THE ELEMENTS OF
DRAWING
I
ON FIRST PRACTICE
My DEAR Reader, — Whether this book is
to be of use to you or not, depends wholly
on your reason for wishing to learn to draw.
If you desire only to possess a graceful
accomplishment, to be able to converse in a
fluent manner about drawing, or to amuse
yourself listlessly in listless hours, I cannot
help you : but if you wish to learn drawing
that you may be able to set down clearly,
and usefully, records of such things as cannot
be described in words, either to assist your
own memory of them, or to cojivey distinct
ideas of them to other people ; if you wish
to obtain quicker perceptions of the beauty
of the natural world, and to preserve some-
thing like a true mage of beautiful things
that pass away, or which you must yourself
leave ; if, also, you wish to understand the
iftinds of great painters, and to be able to
appreciate their work sincerely, seeing it for
2 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [r
#
3 roiirseIf, and loving it, not merely taking
up the thouglii^ of other people about it ;
then I can help you. or, which is better, show
you how to help yourself.
Only you must understand, first of all,
that these powers, which indeed are noble
and desirable, cannot be got without work.
It is much easier to learn to draw well, than
it is to learn to play well on any musical
instrument ; but you know that it takes
three or four years of practice, giving three
or four hours a day, to acquire even ordinary
command over the keys of a piano ; and
you must not think that a masterly com-
mand of your pencil, and the knowledge of
what may be done with it, can be acquired
without painstaking, or in a very short time.
The kind of drawing which is taught, or
supposed to be taught, in our schools, in a
term or two, perhaps at the rate of an hour’s
practice a week, is not drawing at ail. It
is only the performance of a few^ dexterous
(not always even that) evolutions on paper
with a black-lead pencil ; profitless alike
to performenand beholder, unless as a matter
■of vanity, and that the smallest possible
vanity. If any young persons, after being
taught what is, in polite circles, called
' drawing wiU try to cppy the commonest
piece of real work — suppose a lithograph on
the titlepage of a new opera air, or a wood-
cut in the cheapest illustrated new^spapbr
of the day — they will find themselves entirely
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 3
*
beaten. And yet that common lithograph
was drawn with coarse ch^lk, much more
difficult to manage than the pencil of which
an accomplished young lady is supposed to
have command ; and that woodcut was
drawn in urgent haste, and half-spoiled in
the cutting afterwards ; and both were
done by people whom nobody thinks of as
artists, or praises for their power ; both
were done for daily bread, with no more
artist’s pride than any simple handicrafts-
men feel in the work they live by.
Do not, therefore, think that you can
learn drawing, any more than a new lan-
guage, without some hard and disagreeable
labour. But do not, on the other hand, if
you are ready and wilhng to pay this price,
fear that you may be unable to get on for
want of special talent. It is indeed true
that the persons who have peculiar talent
for art, draw instinctively, and get on almost
without teaching ; though never without
toil. It is true, also, that of inferior talent
for drawing there are many degrees : it will
take one person a much long^ time than
another to attain the same results, and the
results thus painfully attained are never
quite so satisfactory as those got with greater
ease when the facui'y.es are naturally adapted
to the study. But I have never yet, in the
experiments I have made, met with a person
■wfio could not learn to draw at all ; and, in
general, there is a satisfactory and available
4 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
^ r
power in every^ one to learn drawing if he
wishes, just as nearly all persons have the
powder of learning French, Latin, or arithme-
tic, in a decent and useful degree, if their
lot in life requires them to possess such
knowledge.
Supposing then that you are ready to take
a certain amount of pains, and to bear a
little irksomeness and a few disappoint-
ments bravely, I can promise you that an
hour’s practice a day for six months, or an
hour’s practice every other day for twelve
months, or, disposed in whatever way you
find convenient, some hundred and fifty
hours’ practice, wall give you sufficient power
of drawing faithfully whatever you want to
draw, and a good judgment, up to a certain
point, of other people’s wmrk : of which
hours, if you have one to spare at present,
we may as well begin at once.
EXERCISE I
Everything that you can see, in the world
around you, presents itself to your eyes only
as an arrarfgement of patches of different
colours variously shaded Some of these
1 (N.B. This note is only for the satisfaction of
incredulous or curious readers. You may miss ituf
you are in a hui^ry, or are willing to take the state-
ment in the text on trust.)
The perception of solid Form is entirely a matter
of experience. We see nothing but flat colours ;
and it is only by a series of experiments that ^ve
find out that a stain of black or grey indicates the
dark side of a solid substance, or that a faint hue
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
5
%
patches of colour have an appearance of
lines or texture within thefn, as a piece of
cloth or silk has of threads, or an animal’s
skin shows texture of hairs : but whether
this be the case or not, the first broad aspect
of the thing is that of a patch of some definite
indicates that the object in which it appears is far
away. The whole technical power of painting
depends on onr recovery of what may be called the
innocence of the eye ; that is to say, of a sort of
childish perception of these flat stains of colour,
merely as such, without consciousness of what they
signify, as a blind man would see them if suddenly
gifted with sight.
For instance ; when grass is lighted strongly by
the sun in certain directions, it is turned from green
into a peculiar and somewhat dusty-looking yellow.
If we had been bom blind, and were suddenly en-
dowed wdth sight on a piece of grass thus lighted
in some parts by the sun, it would appear to us that
part of the grass was green, and part a dusty 3^ellow
(very nearly of the colour of primroses ) ; and, if
there were primroses near, we should think that the
sunlighted grass was another mass of plants of the
same sulphur-yellow colour. We should try to
gather some of them, and then find that the colour
went away from the grass w'hen we stood between
it and the sun, but not from the primroses ; and
by a series of experimeifts we should find out that
the sun was really the cause of the colour in the one, —
not in the other. We go through such processes
of experiment unconsciously in #hildhood ; and
having once come to conclusions touching the signifi-
cation of certain colours, we always suppose that
we see what we only know, and have hardly any
consciousness of the real aspect of the signs we have
learned to interpret. Very few' people have any
idea that sunlighted '^rass is yellowv.
Now, a highly accomplished artist has always
reduced himself as nearly as possible to this con-
(fdition of infantine sight. He sees the colours of
nature exactly as they are, and therefore perceives
at once in the sunlighted grass the precise relation
6 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
€
colour ; and the first thing to be learned is,
hovv to produce^ extents of smooth colour,
without texture.
This can only be done properly wdth a
, brush ; but a brush, being soft at the point,
causes so much uncertainty in the touch of
an unpractised hand, that it is hardly pos-
sible to learn to draw first with it, and it is
better to take, in early practice, some instru-
ment with a hard and fine point, both that
we may give some support to the hand, and
that by working over the subject with so
delicate a point, the attention may be
properly directed to all the most minute
parts of it. Even the best artists need
occasional^ to study subjects with a pointed
instrument, in order thus to discipline their
attention : and a beginner must be content
to do so for a considerable period.
Also, observe that before we trouble our-
between the two colours that form its shade and
light. To him it does not seem shade and light,
but bluish green barred nvith gold.
Strive, therefore, first of all, to con\dnce yourself
of this great fact about sight. This, in your hand,
which you kno^ by experience and touch to be a
book, is to your eye nothing but a patch of white,
variously gradated and spotted ; this other thing
near 3"ou, which by experience you know to be a
table, is to your eye only a patch of brown, variously
darkened and veined ; and so on : and the whole
art of Painting ^consists mer«sly in perceiving the
shape and depth of these patches of colour, and
putting patches of the same size, depth, and shape
on canvas. The only obstacle to the success of
painting is, that many of the real colours are bright^*
and paler than it is possible to put on canvas : we
must put darker ones to represent them.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
7
%
selves about differences of colour, we must
be able to lay on one colour properly, in
whatever gradations of depth and whatever
shapes we want. We will try, therefore,
first to lay on tints or patches of of
whatever depth we want, with a pointed
instrument. Take any finely pointed steel
pen (one of Gillott’s lithographic crowquiils
is best), and a piece of quite smooth, but not
shining, note-paper, cream laid, and get some
ink that has stood already some time in the
inkstand, so as to be quite black, and as
thick as it can be without clogging the pen.
Take a rule, and draAv four straight lines,
so as to enclose a square, or nearly a square,
about as large as a. Fig. i. I say nearly a
square, because it does not in the least
matter whether it is quite square or not, the
object being merely to get a space enclosed
by straight lines.
Now, try to fill in that square space with
crossed lines, so completely and evenly that
it shall look like a square patch of gre}^ silk
or cloth, cut out and laid on the white paper,
as at h. Cover it quickly, first gvith straight-
ish lines, in any direction you like, not
troubling yourself to draw them much closer
or neater than those in the square a. Let
them quite dry before retoucj^ing them. (If
you draw three or four squares side by side,
you may always be going on with one wdiile
?he others are drying.) Then cover these
lines with others in a different direction, and
8 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
let those dry ; ^ then in another direction
still, and let those dr^n Always wait long
enough to run no risk of blotting, and then
draw the lines as quickly as you can. Each
ought to be laid on as swiftly as the dash of
the pen of a good writer ; but if you try to
reach this great speed at first, you will go
over the edge of the square, which is a fault
in this exercise. Yet it is better to do so now
and then than to draw the lines very slowly ;
for if you do, the pen leaves a little dot of
ink at the end of each line, and these dots
spoil your work. So draw each line quickly ,
stopping always as nearly as you can at the
edge of the square. The ends of lines which
go over the edge are afterwards to be removed
with the penknife, but not till you have done
the whole work, otherwise you roughen the
paper, and the next line that goes over the
edge makes a blot.
When you have gone over the whole
three or four times, you will find some parts
of the square look darker than other parts.
Now try to make the lighter parts as dark
as the rest, 'So that the whole may be of
equal depth or darkness. You will find, on
examining the work, that where it looks
darkest the lines are closest, or there are
some much d®.rker line^ than elsewhere ;
therefore you must put in o ther lines, or
little scratches and dots, between the lineg
in the paler parts ; and where there are any
very conspicuous dark lines, scratch them
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
9
out lightly with the penknife, for the eye
must not be attracted by any line in particu-
lar. The more carefully and delicately you
fill in the little gaps and holes the better ;
you will get on faster by doing two or three
squares perfectly than a great many badly.
As the tint gets closer and begins to look
even, work with very little ink in your pen,
so as hardly to make any mark on the paper ;
and at last, where it is too dark, use the
edge of your penknife very hghtly, and for
some time, to wear it softly into an even
tone. You will find that the greatest diffi-
culty consists in getting evenness : one bit
will always look darker than another bit of
your square ; or there will be a granulated
and sandy look over the whole. When you
find your paper quite rough and in a mess,
give it up and begin another square, but do
not rest satisfied till you have done your
best with every square. The tint at last
ought at least to be as close and even as that
in 6, Fig. i. You will find, however, that
it is very difficult to get a pale tint ; because
naturally, the ink lines necessa^ to produce
a close tint at all, blacken the paper more
than you want. You must get over this
difficulty not so much by leaving the lines
wide apart as by tidying to drapw them exces-
sively fine, lightly and swiftly ; being very
cautious in filling in ; and, at last, passing
the penknife over the whole. By keeping
several squares in progress at one time, and
10 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
reserving your pen for the light one just when
the ink is nearly exhausted, you may get on
better. The paper ought, at last, to look
lightly and evenly toned all over, with no
lines distinctly visible.
EXERCISE II
As this exercise in shading is very tiresome,
it will be well to vary it by proceeding with
another at the same time. The power of
shading rightly depends mainly on lightness
of hand and keeness of sight ; but there are
other qualities required in drawing, depen-
dent not merely on lightness, but steadiness
of hand ; and the eye, to be perfect in its
power, must be made accurate as well as
keen, and not only see shrewdly, but measure
justly.
Possess yourself therefore of any cheap
work on botany containing outline plates of
leaves and flowers, it does hot matter whether
bad or good : Baxter's British Flowering
Plants is quite good enough. Copy any of
the simplest outlines, first with a soft pencil,
following it, By the eye, as nearly as you can ;
if it does not look right in propoi'tions, rub
out and correct it, always by the eye, till
you think it is right : when you have got it
to your mind, fay tracing-paper on the book,
on this paper trace the outline you have
been copying, and apply it to your owr|^;
and having thus ascertained the faults,
correct them all patiently, till you have got
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE ii
%
it as nearly accurate as may J^e. Work with
a very soft pencil, and do not rub out so
hard ^ as to spoil the surface of your paper i
never mind how dirty the paper gets, but
do not roughen it ; and let the false outlines
alone where the^r do not really interfere
with the true one. It is a good thing to
accustom yourself to hew and shape your
drawing out of a dirty piece of paper. When
3^011 have got it as right as you can, take a
quill pen, not very fine at the point ; rest
your hand on a book about an inch and a
half thick, so as to hold the pen long ; and
go over your pencil outline with ink, raising
3"0iir pen point as seldom as possible, and
never leaning more heavily on one part of
the line than on another. In most outline-
drawings of the present day, parts of the-
ciirves are thickened to give an effect of
shade ; all such outlines are bad, but they
will serve well enough for your exercises,
provided you do not imitate this character r
it is better, however, if you can, to choose a
1 Stale crumb of bread is better, if you are making'
a delicate drawing, than India-rubl?er, for it dis-
turbs the surface of the paper less : but it crumbles
about the room and makes a mess ; and, besides,
you waste the good bread, which is wrong ; and
your drawing will not for a long while be worth the
crumbs. So use Indi^-rubber very lightly ; or, if
heavily, pressing it oiily, not pas^g it over the
paper," and leave what pencil marks will not come
away so, without minding them. In a finished draw-
i!i% the uneffaced penciling is often serviceable,
helping the general tone, and enabling you to take
out little bright lights.
12 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
book of pure outlines. It does not in the
least matter whether your pen outline be
thin or thick ; but it matters greatly that it
should be eqtial, not heavier in one place
than in another. The power to be obtained
is that of drawing an even line slowly and in
any direction ; all dashing lines, or approxi-
mations to penmanship, are bad. The pen
should, as it were, walk slowly over the
ground, and you should be able at aii)^
moment to stop it, or to turn it in any other
direction, like a well-managed horse.
As soon as you can copy every curve slowly
and accurately, you have made satisfactory
progress ; but you will find the difficulty
is in the slowness. It is easy to draw what
appears to be a good line with a sweep of the
hand, or with what is called freedom ^ ; the
1 What is usually so much sought after under the
term ‘ freedom ’ is the character of the drawing of
a great master in a hurry, whose hand is so thor-
oughly disciplined, that when pressed for time he
can let it fly as it will, and it will not go far wrong.
But the hand of a great master at real work is never
free : its swiftest dash is under perfect government.
Paul Veroneatfi or Tintoret could pause within a
hair’s breadth of any appointed mark, in their fastest
touches ; and follow, within a hair’s breadth the
previously intended curve. You must never, there-
fore, aim at freedom. It is not required of your
drawing that it should be free, but that it should
be right ; in tinee you will be able to do right easily,
and then your work will be free in the best sensb ;
but there is no merit in doing wrong easily.
These remarks, however, do not apply to the lines
used in shading, which, it will be remembered, %re
to be made as quickly as possible. The reason of
this is, that the quicker a line is drawn, the lighter
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
13
real difficulty and masterlijiess is in never
letting the hand he free, but keeping it under
entire control at every part of the line.
EXERCISE III
Meantime, you are always to be going on
with your shaded squares, and chie-fly with
these, the outline exercises being taken up
only for rest.
As soon as you find you have some com-
mand of the pen as a shading instrument,
and can lay a pale or dark tint as you choose,
try to produce gradated spaces like Fig. 2,
the dark tint passing gradually into the
lighter ones. Nearly all expression of form,
in drawing, depends on your power of gradat-
ing delicately ; and the gradation is alw’ays
most skilful which passes from one tint into
another very little paler. Draw, therefore,
two parallel lines for limits to your work,
as in Fig. 2, and try to gradate the shade
evenly from white to black, passing over the
greatest possible distance, yet so that every
•
it is at the ends, and therefore the more easily joined
with other lines, and concealed by them ,* the object
in perfect shading being to conce^ the lines as much
as possible.
And observe, in this exercise, the object is more
to get firmness of hand than accaracy of eye for
btitline ; for there are no outlines in Nature, and
the ordinary student is sure to draw them falsely
if^he draws them at all. Do not, therefore, be dis-
couraged if you find mistakes continue to occur in
your outlines ; be content at present if you find
your hand gaining command over the curves.
14 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
part of the ba^gd may have visible change
in it. The perception of gradation is very
deficient in all beginners (not to say, in many
artists), and you will probably, for some
time, think your gradation skilful enough,
when it is quite patchy and imperfect. By
getting a piece of grey shaded riband, and
comparing it with your drawing, you may
arrive, in early stages of your work, at a
wholesome dissatisfaction with it. Widen
your band little by little as you get more
skilful, so as to give the gradation more
lateral space, and accustom yourself at the
same time to look for gradated spaces in
Nature. The sky is the largest and the
most beautiful ; watch it at twilight, after
the sun is down, and try to consider each
pane of glass in the window you look through
as a piece of paper coloured blue, or grey,
or purple, as it happens to be, and observe
how quietly and continuously the gradation
extends over the space in the window, of one
or two feet square. Observe the shades on
the outside and inside of a common white
cup or bo wh^* which make it look round and
hollow ^ ; and then on folds of white drapery ;
and thus gradually you will be led to observe
the more subtle transitions of the light as it
increases or defines on flat surfaces. At last^
when your eye gets keen and true, you will
see gradation on everything in Nature.
m
^ If you can get any pieces of dead white porce-
lain, not glazed, they will be useful models.
ON FIRST PRACTICE
15
But it will not be in your power yet awhile
to draw from any objects in T.l'hich the grada-
tions are varied and complicated ; nor will
it be a bad omen for your future progress,
and for the use that art is to be made of b}^
you, if the first thing at which you aim should
be a little bit of sky. So take any narrow
space of evening sky, that you can usually
see, between the boughs of a tree, or between
two chimneys, or through the corner of a
pane in the window you hke best to sit at,
and try to gradate a little space of white
paper as evenly as that is gradated — as
tenderly you cannot gradate it without colour,
no, nor with colour either ; but you may do
it as evenly ; or, if you get impatient with
your spots and lines of ink, when you look
at the beauty of the sky, the sense you will
have gained of that beauty is something to
be thankful for. But you ought not to be
impatient with your pen and ink ; for all
great painters, however delicate their per-
ception of colour, are fond of the peculiar
effect of light which may be got in a pen-
and-ink sketch, and in a woodcut, by the
gleaming of the white paper between the
black lines ; and if you cannot gradate weU
with pure black lines, you will never gradate
well with pale ones. By loojcing at any
common woodcuts, in the cheap publica-
tions of the day, you may see hov/ gradation
is"^iven to the sky by leaving the lines
farther and farther apart ; but you must
i6 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
make your lines as fine as you can, as well as
far apart, towards the light ; and do not
try to make them long or straight, but let
them cross irregularly in any directions easy
to your hand, depending on nothing but
their gradation for your effect. On this
point of direction of lines, however, I shall
have to tell you more presently ; in the
meantime, do not trouble yourself about it.
EXERCISE IV
As soon as you find you can gradate toler-
ably with the pen, take an H or HH pencil,
using its point to produce shade, from the
darkest possible to the palest, in exactly
the same manner as the pen, lightening,
however, noAv with India-rubber instead
of the penknife. You will find that all
pale tints of shade are thus easily produc-
ible with great precision and tenderness,
but that yon cannot get the same dark
power as with the pen and ink, and that the
surface of the shade is apt to become glossy
and metallic, or dirty-looking, or sandy. Per-
severe, however, in trying to bring it to even-
ness with the fine point, removing any single
speck or line that may be too black, with the
point of the knife : you must not scratch
the whole mth the knife as you do the ink.
If you find the texture very speckled-
looking, lighten it ail over with India-rubber,
and recover it again with sharp, and Ex-
cessively fine touches of the pencil point,
I]
OiV FIRST PRACTICE
17
bringing the parts that are 4^00 pale to per-
fect evenness with the darker spots.
Yon cannot use the point too delicately
or cunningly in doing this ; work with it as
if you were drawing the down on a butterfly’s
wing.
At this stage of your progress, if not before,
you may be assured that some clever friend
will come in, and hold up his hands in mock-
ing amazement, and ask you who could set
you to that ‘ niggling ’ ; and if you persevere
in it, you will have to sustain considerable
persecution from your artistical acquaint-
ances generally, w'ho will tell you that all
good drawing depends on ^ boldness
But never mind them. You do not hear
them tell a child, beginning music, to la^-
its little hand with a crash among the keys,
in imitation of the great masters : yet they
might, as reasonably as they may tell you
to be bold in the present state of your know^-
ledge. Bold, in the sense of being un-
daunted, yes ; but bold in the sense of being
careless, confident, or exhibitory — no, — no,
and a thousand times no ; for, «ven if you
w^ere not a beginner, it would be bad advice
that made you bold. Mischief may easily
be done quickly, but good and beautiful
work is generally done slowly ;#you will find
no boldness in the way a flower or a bird’s
wing is painted ; and if Nature is not bold at
work, do you think you ought to be at
yotifs ? So never mind w^hat people say,
C
1 8 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAJVING [i
but work with- your pencil point very pa-
tiently ; and if you can trust me in anything^
trust me when I tell you, that though there
are all kinds and ways of art — large work
for large places, small w'ork for narrow places,
slow work for people who can wait, and quick
work for people who cannot — there is one
quality, and, I think, only one, in which all
great and good art agrees ; — it is all delicate-
art. Coarse art is always bad art. You can-
not understand this at present, because you
do not know yet how much tender thought,
and subtle care, the great painters put into
touches that at first look coarse ; but, be-
lieve me, it is true, and you will find it is so
in due time.
You will be perhaps also troubled, in
these first essays at pencil drawing, by notic-
ing that more delicate gradations are got in
an instant by a chance touch of the India-
rubber, than by an hour’s labour with the
point ; and you may wonder why I tell you
to produce tints so painfully, which might,
it appears, be obtained with ease. But
there are Pwo reasons : the first, that when
you come to draw forms, you must be able to
gradate with absolute precision, in what-
ever place and direction you wish ; not in
any wise vaguely, as the India-rubber does
it ; and, secondly, that all natural shadows
are more or less mingled with gleam^of
light. In the darkness of ground there is' the
light of the little pebbles or dust ; in the dark-
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 19
ness of foliage^ the glitter qf the leaves ; in
the darkness of flesh, transparency ; in that
of a stone, granulation : in every case there
is some mingling of light, wliich cannot be
represented by the leaden tone which you
get by rubbing, or by an instrument known
to artists as the ‘ stump When you can
manage the point properly, you will indeed
be able to do much also with this instrument,
or with your fingers ; but then you will
have to retouch the flat tints afterwards,
so as to put life and fight into them, and that
can only be done with the point. Labour
on, therefore, courageously, with that onh/.
EXERCISE V
When you can manage to tint and gradate
tenderly with the pencil point, get a good
large alphabet, and try to tint the letters
into shape with the pencil point. Do not
outline them first, but measure their height
and extreme breadth with the compasses, as
a b, a c, Fig. 3, and then scratch in their
shapes gradually ; the letter enclosed
within the fines, being in what Turner would
have called a ‘ state of forwardness h Then,
when 3mu are satisfied with the shape of the
letter, draw pen and ink lines^firmfi" round
the tint, as at d, and remove any touches
outside the limit, first with the India-rubber,
and then with the penknife, so that all
may look clear and right. If you rub out
20 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
any of the pencil inside the outline of the
letter, retouch it, closing it up to the inked
line. The straight lines of the outline are
all to be ruled but the curved lines are to
be drawn by the eye and hand ; and you
will soon find what good practice there is
in getting the curved letters, such as Bs,
Cs, etc., to stand quite straight, and come
into accurate form.
All these exercises are very irksome,
and they are not to be persisted in alone ;
neither is it necessary to acquire perfect
power in any of them. An entire master
of the pencil or brush ought, indeed, to be
able to draw any form at once, as Giotto
his circle ; but such skill as this is only to
be expected of the consummate master,
having pencil in hand all his life, and all day
long, hence the force of Giotto’s proof of his
skill ; and it is quite possible to draw very
beautifully, without attaining even an ap-
proximation to such a power ; the main
1 Artists who glance at this book be surprised
at this permission. My chief reason is, that I think
it more necessary that the pupil’s eye should be
trained to accurate perception of the relations of
curve and right lines, by having the latter absolutely
true, than that he should practise drawing straight
lines. But also, I believe, though I am not quite
sure of this, ths^t he never ought to be able to draw
a straight line. I do not believe a perfectly trained
hand ever can draw a line without some curvature
in it, or some variety of direction. Prout could dr^v
a straight line, but I do not believe Raphael coiSd,
nor Tintoret. A great draughtsman can, as far as
I have observed, draw every line but a straight one.
. i
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 21
point being, not that every line should be
precisely what we intend or wish, but that
the line which we intended or wished to
draw should be right. If we always see
rightly and mean rightly, we shall get on,
though the hand may stagger a little ;
but if we mean wTongly, or mean nothing,
it does not matter how firm the hand is. Do
not therefore torment yourself because you
cannot do as well as you would like ; but
work patiently, sure that every square
and letter will give you a certain increase
of power ; and as soon as you can draw your
letters pretty well, here is a more amusing
exercise for you.
EXERCISE VI
Choose any tree that you think pretty,
which is nearly bare of leaves, and which
you can see against the sky, or against a
pale wall, or other light ground : it must
not be against strong light, or you will find
the looking at it hurt your eyes ; nor must
it be in sunshine, or you will puzzled by
the lights on the boughs. But the tree must
be in shade ; and the sky blue, or grey, or
dull white. A wholly grey or rainy day is
the best for this practice. •
You will see that all the boughs of the
Jj;ee are dark against the sky. Consider
them as so many dark rivers, to be laid
down in a map with absolute accuracy ;
THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
and, without tllte least thought about the
roimdness of the stems, map them all out in
flat shade, scrawling them in with pencil,
just as 3^ou did the limbs of your letters ;
then correct and alter them, rubbing out and
out again, never minding how much your
paper is dirtied (only not destroying its
surface), until ever}^ bough is exactty, or
as near as your utmost power can bring it,
right in curvature and in thickness. Look
at the white interstices between them with
as much scrupulousness as if they were little
estates which you had to survey, and
draw maps of, for some important lawsuit,
involving heavy penalties if you cut the
least bit of a corner off any of them, or gave
the hedge anywhere too deep a curve ;
and try continuail}^ to fancy the whole tree
nothing but a flat ramification on a white
ground. Do not take any trouble about the
little twigs, which look like a confused net-
work or mist ; leave them all out drawing
only the main branches as far as you can
see them distinctly, your object at present
being not to draw a tree, but to learn hoinj
to do so. When you have got the things
as nearly right as you can — and it is better
to make one good study, than twenty left
unnecessarily ^ inaccurate — take your pen,
1 Or, if you feel able to do so, scratch them in
confused quick touches, indicating the general shape
of the cloud or mist of twigs round the main branches,
but do not take much trouble about the n.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
23
and put cl fine outline to ail •the boughs, as
you did to your letter, taking care, as far
as possible, to put the outline within the
edge of the shade, so as not to make the
boughs thicker : the main use of the out-
line is to affirm the whole more clearly ;
to do away with little accidental roughnesses
and excrescences, and especially to make
where boughs cross, or come in front of each
other, as at such points their arrangement
in this kind of sketch is unintelligible with-
out the outline. It may perfectly well
happen that in Nature it should be less
distinct than your outline wdll make it ;
but it is better in this kind of sketch to mark
the facts clearly. The temptation is always
to be slovenly and careless, and the outline
is like a bridle, and forces our indolence into
attention and precision. The outline should
be about the thickness of that in Fig. 4,
which represents the ramification of a small
stone pine, only I have not endeavoured to
represent the pencil shading within the out-
line, as I could not easily express it in a
woodcut ; and you have nothing to do at
present with the indication of foliage above,
of which in another place. You may also
draw your trees as much larger than this
figure as you like ; only, howeps^er large they
may be, keep the outline as delicate, and
draw the branches far enough into their
outer sprays to give quite as slender rami-
fication as you have in this figure, otherwise
24 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
you do not get §ood enough practice out of
them.
You cannot do too many studies of this
kind : every one will give you some new
notion about trees : but when you are tired
of tree boughs, take any forms whatever
which are drawn in flat colour, one upon
another ; as patteims on any kind of cloth,
or flat china (tiles, for instance), executed
in two colours only ; and practise drawing
them of the right shape and size by the eye,
and filling them in with shade of the depth
required.
In doing this, you will first have to meet
the difficulty of representing depth of colour
by depth of shade. Thus a pattern of ul-
tramarine blue will have to be represented
by a darker tint of grey than a pattern of
yellow.
And now it is both time for you to begin to
learn the mechanical use of the brush ; and
neces sary for you to do so in order to provide
yourself with the gradated scale of colour
which you will want. If you can, by any
means, get acquainted with any ordinarily
skilful water-colour painter, and prevail on
him to show you how to lay on tints with a
brush, by all means do so ; not that you are
yet, nor for ar long while yet, to begin to
colour, but because the brush is often more
convenient than the pencil for laying on
masses or tints of shade, and the sooner
you know how to manage it as an instrument
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
25
the better. If, however, y©u have no op-
portunity of seeing how water-colour is laid
on by a workman of any kind, the following
directions will help you : —
EXERCISE VII
Get a shilling cake of Prussian blue. Dip
the end of it in water so as to take up a
drop, and rub it in a white saucer till you
cannot rub much more, and the colour gets
dark, thick, and oily-looking. Put two
teaspoonfuls of water to the colour you have
rubbed down, and mix it well up with a
camel’ s-hair brush about three quarters of
an inch long.
Then take a piece of smooth, but not glossy
Bristol board or pasteboard ; divide it,
with your pencil and rule, into squares as
large as those of the very largest chess-board :
they need not be perfect squares, only as
nearly so as you can quickly guess. Rest
the pasteboard on something sloping as
much as an ordinary desk ; liien, dipping
your brush into the colour you have mixed,
and taking up as much of the liquid as it will
carr}^, begin at the top of one of the squares,
and lay a pond or runlet of colour along the
top edge. Lead this pond of colour gradu-
ally downwards, not faster at one place than
another, but as if you were adding a row of
bricks to a building, all along (only building
26 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
down instead <A np), dipping the brush
frequently so as to keep the colour as full
in that, and in as great quantity on the paper,
as YOU can, so only that it does not run down
anywhere in a little stream But if it
slJuld, never mind ; go on quiet y with your
square tiU you have covered it all in.
you get to the bottom, the coloui wiU lod^,
there in a great wave. Have ready a piece
of blotting-paper ; dry your brush on it,
and vuth the dry brush take up the super-
fluous colour as you would with a sponge,
till it all looks even.
In leading the colour down, you will find
your brush continually go over the edge of
L square, or leave little gaps within it.
Do not endeavour to retouch these, nor take
much care about them ; the great thing is
to get the colour to lie smoothly where it
reaves, not in alternate blots and pale
patches ; try, therefore, to lead it
square as fast as possible, with such attenaon
to your limit as you are able to give. The
use of the exercise is, indeed, to enable you
finally to stfike the colour up to the limit
with perfect accuracy ; but the first thing
is to get it even, the power of rightly strik-
ing the edge comes only by time and practice :
even the grea*test artists rarely can do this
quite perfectly. _
When you have done one square, proceed
to do another which does not communicate
with it. When you have thus done all the
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 27
alternate squares, as on la chess-board,
turn the pasteboard upside down, begin
again with the first, and put another coat
over it, and so on over all the others. The
use of turning the paper upside down is to
neutralize the increase of darkness towards
the bottom of the squares, which would
otherwise take place from the ponding of
the colour.
Be resolved to use blotting-paper, or a
piece of rag, instead of your lips, to dry the
brush. The habit of doing so, once acquired, <
will save you from much partial poisoning.
Take care, however, always to draw the
brush from root to point, otherwise you
will spoil it. You may even wipe it as you
would a pen when you want it very dry,
without doing harm, provided you do not
crush it upwards. Get a good brush at
first, and cherish it ; it will serve you longer
and better than many bad ones.
When you have done the squares all
over again, do them a third time, always
trying to keep your edges as neat as possible.
When your colour is exhausted, mix more
in the same proportions, two teaspoonfuls
to as much as you can grind with a drop ;
and when you have done the alternate squares
three times over, as the paper will be getting
very damp, and dry more slowly, begin on
Jj^e white squares, and bring them up to the
same tint in the same way. The amount of
jagged dark line which then will mark the
28 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
limits of the ^squares will be the exact
measure of your unsldlfulness.
As soon as you tire of squares draw circles
(with compasses) ; and then draw straight
lines irregularly across circles, and fill up the
spaces so produced between the straight
line and the circumference ; and then draw
any simple shapes of leaves, according to
the exercise No. 2, and fill up those, until
you can lay on colour quite evenly in any
shape you want.
You will find in the course of this practice,
as you cannot always put exactly the same
quantity of water to the colour, that the
darker the colour is, the more difficult it
becomes to lay it on evenly. Therefore, when
you have gained some definite degree of
power, try to fill in the forms required with
a full brush, and a dark tint, at once, instead
of laying several coats one over another ;
always taking care that the tint, however
dark, be quite liquid ; and that, after being
laid on, so much of it is absorbed as to pre-
vent its forming a black line at the edge as
it dries. A«httle experience will teach you
how apt the colour is to do this, and how
to prevent it ; not that it needs always to
be prevented, for a great master in water-
colours will sometimes draw a firm outline
when he wants one, simply by letting the
colour dry in this way at the edge. ^
Wlien, however, you begin to cover com-
plicated forms with the darker colour, no
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
29
rapidity will prevent the tiiat from drying
irregularly as it is led on from part to part.
You will then find the following method
useful. Lay on the colour very pale and
liquid ; so pale, indeed, that you can only
just see where it is on the paper. Lead it
up to all the outlines, and make it precise
in form, keeping it thoroughly wet every-
where. Then, when it is all in shape, take
the darker colour, and lay some of it into
the middle of the liquid colour. It will
spread gradually in a branchy kind of way,
and 3^ou may now lead it up to the outlines
already determined, and play it with the
brush till it fills its place well ; then let it
dry, and it will be as fiat and pure as a single
dash, yet defining all the complicated forms
accurately.
Having thus obtained the power of laying
on a tolerably fiat tint, you must try to lay
on a gradated one. Prepare the colour
with three or four teaspoonfuls of water ;
then, when it is mixed, pour away about
two thirds of it, keeping a teaspoonful of
pale colour. Sloping your paper as before,
draw two pencil lines all the way down,
leaving a space between them of the width
of a square on your chess-board. Begin at
the top of your paper, between the lines ;
and having struck on the first brushful of
colour, and led it down a little, dip your
brush deep in water, and mix up the colour
on the plate quickly with as much more
30 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
water as the br^sh takes up at that one dip :
then, with this paler colour, lead the tint
farther down. Dip in water again, mix the
colour again, and thus lead down the tint,
always dipping in water once between each
replenishing of the brush, and stirring the
colour on the plate well, but as quickly as
you can. Go on until the colour has be-
come so pale that you cannot see it ; then
wash your brush thoroughly in water, and
carry the wave down a little farther with
that, and then absorb it with the dry brush,
and leave it to dry.
If you get to the bottom of ^^our paper
before your colour gets pale, you ma}^ either
take longer paper, or begin, with the tint
as it was when you left off, on another sheet ;
but be sure to exhaust it to pure whiteness
at last. When all is quite dry, recommence
at the top with another similar mixture of
colour, and go down in the same way. Then
again, and then again, and so continually
until the colour at the top of the paper is as
dark as your cake of Prussian blue, and
passes dowfl into pure white paper at the
end of your column, with a perfectly smooth
gradation from one into the other.
You will find at first that the paper gets
mottled or Wavy, instead of eventy gra-
dated ; this is because at some places you
have taken up more water in your bri]^
than at others, or not mixed it thoroughly
on the plate, or led one tint too far before
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
3 ^
replenishing with the resli Practice only
will enable you to do it well ; the best
artists cannot always get gradations of this
kind quite to their minds ; nor do they ever
leave them on their pictures without after-
touching.
As you get more power, and can strike
the colour more quicldy down, you will be
able to gradate in less compass ^ ; beginning
with a small quantity of colour, and adding a
drop of water, instead of a brushful ; with
finer brushes, also, you may gradate to a
less scale. But slight skill will enable you
to test the relations of colour to shade as
far as is necessary for your immediate pro-
gress, v/hich is to be done thus :
Take cakes of lake, of gamboge, of sepia,
of blue-black, of cobalt, and vermilion ;
and prepare' gradated columns (exactly as
you have done with the Prussian blue) of
the lake and blue-black Cut a narrow
slip, all the way down, of each gradated
colour, and set the three slips side by side ;
fasten them down, and rule lines at equal
distances across all tbe three, s€> as to divide
them into fifty degrees, and number the
degrees of each, from light to dark, i, 2, 3,
etc- If you have gradated them rightly,
^ It is more dif&cult, at first, to get, in colour, a
narrow gradation than an extended one ; but the
ultimate difficulty is, as with the pen, to make the
*5radation go far.
2 Of course, all the columns of colour are to be
of equal lenath.
32 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
the darkest payt either of the red or blue
will be nearly equal in power to the darkest
part of the blue-black, and any degree of
the black slip will also, accurately enough
for our purpose, balance in weight the degree
similarly numbered in the red or the blue
slip. Then, when you are drawing from
objects of a crimson or blue colour, if you
can match their colour by any compart-
ment of the crimson or blue in your scales,
the grey in the compartment of the grey
scale marked with the same number is the
grey which must represent that crimson or
blue in your light and shade dramng.
Next, prepare scales with gamboge, cobalt,
and vermilion. You will find that you can-
not darken these beyond a certain point ^ ;
for yellow and scarlet, so long as they re-
main yellow and scarlet, cannot approach
to black ; we cannot have, properly speak-
ing, a dark yellow or dark scarlet. Make
your scales of full yellow, blue, and scarlet,
half-way down ; passing then gradually to
white. Afterwards use lake to darken the
upper half of the vermilion and gamboge ;
and Prussian blue to darken the cobalt.
You will thus have three more scales, pas-
sing from white nearly to black, through
yellow and <;w:ange, through sky-blue, and
^ The degree of darkness you can reach with fe
given colour is always indicated by the colour of
the solid cake in the box.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
33
through scarlet. By mixing the gamboge
and Prussian blue you may make another
with green ; mixing the cobalt and lake,
another with violet ; the sepia alone will
make a forcible brown one ; and so on, until
you have as many scales as you like, passing
from black to white through different colours.
Then, supposing your scales properly gra-
dated and equally divided, the compart-
ment or degree No. i of the grey will re-
present in chiaroscuro the No. i of all the
other colours ; No. 2 of grey the No. 2 of
the other colours, and so on.
It is only necessary, however, in this
matter that you should understand the
principle ; for it would never be possible
for you to gradate your scales so truly as to
make them practically accurate and ser-
viceable ; and even if you could, unless you
had about ten thousand scales, and were
able to change them faster than ever juggler
changed cards, you could not in a day
measure the tints on so much as one side of
a frost-bitten apple : but when once you
fully understand the principle, sftid see how
all colours contain as it were a certain quan-
tity of darkness, or power of dark relief from
white — some more, some less ; and how
this pitch or power of each ma^y be repre-
sented by equivalent values of grey, you
will soon be able to arrive shrewdly at an
approximation by a glance of the eye, with-
out any measuring scale at all.
D
34 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
You must naw go on, again with the pen,
drawing patterns, and any shapes of shade
that you think pretty, as veinings in marble
or tortoiseshell, spots in surfaces of shells,
etc., as tenderly as you can, in the dark-
nesses that correspond to their colours ; and
when you find you can do this successfully,
it is time to begin rounding.
EXERCISE VIII
Go out into your garden, or into the road,
and pick up the first round or oval stone you
can find, not very white, nor very dark ;
and the smoother it is the better, only it
must not shine. Draw your table near the
window, and put the stone, which I will sup-
pose is about the size of a in Fig. 5 (it had
better not be much larger), on a piece of not
very white paper, on the table in front of
you. Sit so that the light may come from
your left, else the shadow of the pencil point
interferes with your sight of your work.
You must not let the sim fall on the stone,
but only ordinary light : therefore choose
a window which the sun does not come in
at. If you can shut the shutters of the other
windows in the room it will be all the better ;
but this is jpot of much consequence.
Now, if you can draw that stone, you can
draw anything : I mean, anything that is
drawable. Many things (sea foam,
instance) cannot be drawn at all, only the
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 35
idea of them more or less 5 #uggested ; but
if you can draw the stone rightly, everything
witiiin reach of art is also within yours.
For aU drawing depends, primarily, on
your power of representing Roundness. If
you can once do that, ail the rest is easy and
straightforward ; if you cannot do that,
nothing else that you may be able to do will
be of any use. For Nature is all made up
of roundnesses ; not the roundness of per-
fect globes, but of variously curved sur-
faces. Boughs are rounded, leaves are
rounded, stones are rounded, clouds are
rounded, cheeks are rounded, and curls are
rounded : there is no more flatness in the
natural world than there is vacancy. The
world itself is round, and so is all that is in
it, more or less, except human work, which
is often very flat indeed.
Therefore, set yourself steadily to conquer
that round stone, and you have won the battle.
Look your stone antagonist boldly in the
face. You will see that the side of it next
the window is lighter than most of the paper ;
that the side of it farthest from iihe window
is darker than the paper ; and that the light
passes into the dark gradually while a
shadow is thrown to the right on the paper
itself by the stone : the generaU appearance
of things being more or less as in a. Fig. 5,
the spots on the stone excepted, of which
mdl’e presently.
Now, remember always what was stated
36 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
in the outset, that everything you can see
in Nature is seen only so far as it is lighter
or darker than the things about it, or of a
different colour from them. It is either
seen as a patch of one colour on a ground of
another ; or as a pale thing relieved from
a dark thing, or a dark thing from a pale
thing. And if you can put on patches of
colour or shade of exactly the same size,
shape and gradations as those on the object
and its ground, you will produce the appear-
ance of the object and its ground. The
best draughtsmen — Titian and Paul Veronese
themselves — could do no more than this ;
and you will soon be able to get some power
of doing it in an inferior way, if you once
understand the exceeding simplicity of what
is to be done. Suppose you have a brown
book on a white sheet of paper, on a red
tablecloth. You have nothing to do but to
put on spaces of red, white, and brown, in
the same shape, and gradated from dark to
light in the same degrees, and your drawing
is done. If you will not look at what you
see, if you^try to put on brighter or duller
colours than are there, if you try to put them
on with a dash or a blot, or to cover your
paper with ‘ vigorous * lines, or to produce
anything, ir: fact, but the plain, unaffected,
and finished tranquillity of the thing before
you, you need not hope to get on. Nature
will show you nothing if you set yourself
up for her master. But forget yourself,
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 37
and try to obey her, and yomwiU find obedi-
ence easier and happier than you think.
The real difficulties are to get the refine-
ment of the forms and the evenness of the
gradations. You may depend upon it,
when you are dissatisfied with your work,
it is always too coarse or too uneven. It
may not be wrong — in aU probability is not
wrong, in any (so-called) great point. But
its edges are not true enough in outline ;
and its shades are in blotches, or scratches,
or full of wffiite holes. Get it more tender
and more true, and you will find it is more
powerful.
Do not, therefore, think your drawing
must be weak because you have a finety
pointed pen in your hand. Till you can
draw with that, you can draw with nothing ;
when you can draw with that, you can draw^
with a log of wood charred at the end. True
boldness and power are only to be gained
by care. Even in fencing and dancing, all
ultimate ease depends on early precision in
the commencement ; much more in singing
or drawing. •
Now, I do not want you to copy Fig. 5,
but to copy the stone before you in the way
that Fig. 5 is done. To wffiich end, first
measure the extreme length of the stone
with compasses, and mark that length
on your paper ; then, between the points
marked, leave something like the form of
the stone in light, scrawding the paper all
;8 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
over, round it, ks at Fig. 5. You cannot
rightly see what the form of the stone really
is till you begin finishing, so sketch it in
quite rudely ; only rather leave too much
room for the high light, than too little : and
then more cautiously fill in the shade, shut-
ting the light gradually up, and putting in
the dark cautiously on the dark side. You
need not plague yourself about accuracy of
shape, because, till you have practised a
great deal, it is impossible for you to draw
that shape quite trul}^, and you must gradu-
ally gain correctness by means of these
various exercises : what you have mainly
to do at present is, to get the stone to look
solid and round, not much minding what
its exact contour is — only draw it as nearly
right as you can without vexation ; and you
will get it more right by thus feeling your
way to it in shade, than if you tried to draw
the outline at first. For you can see no out-
line ; what you see is only a certain space
of gradated shade, with other such spaces
about it ; and those pieces of shade you are
to imitate aS nearly as you can, by scrawling
the paper over till you get them to the right
shape, with the same gradations which they
have in Nature. And this is really more
likely to be '"done well, if you have to fight
your way through a little confusion in the
sketch, than if you have an accurately traced
outline. For instance, I was going to draw,
beside a, another effect on the stone ; re-
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
39
fleeted light bringing its dark side out from
the background : but when I had laid on*
the first few touches I thought it would be
better to stop, and let you see how I had
begun it, at h. In which beginning it will
be observed that nothing is so determined
but that I can more or less modify, and add
to or diminish the contour as I work on, the
lines which suggest the outline being blended
with the others if I do not want them ; and
the having to fill up the vacancies and con-
quer the irregularities of such a sketch will
probably secure a higher completion at last,
than if half an hour had been spent in get-
ting a true outline before beginning.
In doing this, however, take care not to
get the drawing too dark. In order to ascer-
tain what the shades of it really are, cut a
round hole, about half the size of a pea, in
a piece of white paper the colour of that you
use to draw on. Hold this bit of paper with
the hole in it, between you and your stone ;
and pass the paper backwards and forwards,
so as to see the different portions of the stone
(or other subject) through the* hole. You
will find that, thus, the circular hole looks
like one of the patches of colour you have
been accustomed to match, only changing
in depth as it lets difierent pieces of the stone
be seen through it. You will be able thus
actually to match the colour of the stone,
at any part of it, by tinting the paper beside
the circular opening. And you will find that
40 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
this opening n^ver looks quite blacky but
that all the roundings of the stone are given
by subdued greys
You will probably find, also, that some
parts of the stone, or of the paper it lies on,
looks luminous through the opening ; so
that the little circle then tells as a light spot
instead of a dark spot. When this is so,
you cannot imitate it, for you have no means
of getting light brighter than white paper ;
but by holding the paper more sloped
towards the light, you will find that many
parts of the stone, which before looked light
thi'ough the hole, then look dark through
it ; and if you can place the paper in such
a position that every part of the stone looks
shghtly dark, the httle hole mil tell always
as a spot of shade, and if your drawing is
put in the same light, you can imitate or
match every gradation. You mil be amazed
to find, under these circumstances, how
slight the differences of tint are, by which,
through infinite delicacy of gradation,
Nature can express form.
If any par^ of your subject will obstinately
show itself as a light through the hole, that
part you need not hope to imitate. Leave
it white ; you can do no more.
When you^have done the best you can to
get the general form, proceed to finish, by
1 The figure Fig. 5, is very dark, but this^is
to give an example of all kinds of depths of tint,
without repeated figures.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
41
imitating the texture and ali» the cracks and
stains of the stone as closely as yon can ;
and note, in doing this, that cracks or fis-
sures of any kind, whether between stones
in walls, or in the grain of timber or rocks
or in any of the thousand other conditions
they present, are never expressible by
single black lines, or lines of simple shadow.
A crack must always have its complete
system of light and shade, however small
its scale. It is in reality a little ravine^ with
a dark or shady side, and light or sunny side,
and, usually, shadow in the bottom. This
is one of the instances in which it may be
as well to understand the reason of the
appearance ; it is not often so in drav/ing,
for the aspects of things are so subtle and
confused that they cannot in general be
explained ; and in the endeavour to explain
some, we are sure to lose sight of others,
while the natural over-estimate of the im-
portance of those on which the attention
is fixed causes us to exaggerate them, so
that merely scientific draughtsmen carica-
ture a third part of Nature, and miss two
thirds. The best scholar is he whose eye
is so keen as to see at once how the thing
looks, and who need not therefore trouble
himself with any reasons whym it looks so :
but few people have this acuteness of per-
ceptipn ; and to those who are destitute of
itf a little pointing out of rule and reason
will be a help, especially when a master is
42
THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
not near thenfi I never allow my o\vn
pupils to ask the reason of anything, because,
as I watch their work, I can always show
them how the thing is, and what appearance
they are missing in it ; but when a master
is not by to direct the sight, science may,
here and there, be allowed to do so in his
stead.
Generally, then, every solid illumined
object — for instance, the stone you are
drawing— has a light side turned towards
the light, a dark side turned away from the
light, "and a shadow, which is cast on some-
thing else (as by the stone on the paper it is
set upon). You may sometimes be placed
so as to see only the light side and shadow,
sometimes only the dark side and shadow ,
and sometimes both or either wdthout the
shadow ; but in most positions solid objects
will show all the three, as the stone does
here.
Hold up your hand wdth the edge of^ it
tow^ards you, as you sit now- with your side
to the window-, so that the fiat of your hand
is turned tc? the window. You will see one
side of your hand distinctly lighted, the
other distinctly in shade. Here are light
side and dark side, with no seen shadow - ;
the shadow'^ being detached, perhaps on
the table, perhaps on the other side of the
room ; you need not look for it at present.
Take a sheet of note-paper, and holding
it edgeways, as you hold your hand, wave
l]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
43
it np and dovm past the sid§ of your hand
which is turned from the light, the paper
being of course farther from the window.
You will see, as it passes, a strong gleam of
light strike on your hand, and light it
considerably on its dark side. This light
is reflected light. It is thrown back from
the paper (on which it strikes first in com-
ing from the window) to the surface of your
hand, just as a bail would be if somebody
threw it through the \wndow at the wall and
you caught it at the rebound.
Next, instead of the notepaper, take a
red book, or a piece of scarlet cloth. You
will see that the gleam of light falling on
your hand, as you wave the book, is now
reddened. Take a. blue book, and you will
find the gleam is blue. Thus every object
will cast some of its own colour back in the
light that it reflects.
Now it is not only these books or papers
that reflect light to your hand : every object
in the room on that side of it reflects some,
but more feebly, and the colours mixing
all together form a neutral ^ Bght, which
lets the colour of your hand itself be more
distinctly seen than that of any object
which reflects light to it ; but if there were
no reflected light, that side of your hand
would look as black as a coal.
i Nearly neutral in ordinary circumstances, hut
yet with quite different tones in its neutrality,
according to the colours of the various reflected
rays that compose it.
44 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
Objects are^ seen therefore, in general,
partly by direct light, and partly by light
reflected from the objects around them, or
from the atmosphere and clouds. The colour
of their light sides depends much on that of
the direct Ught, and that of the dark sides on
the colours of the objects near them. It
is therefore impossible to say beforehand
what colour an object will have at any point
of its surface, that colour depending partly
on its own tint, and partly on infinite com-
binations of rays reflected from other things.
The only certain fact about dark sides is,
that their colour will be changeful, and
that a picture which gives them merely
darker shades of the colour of the light sides
must assuredly be bad.
Now, lay your hand flat on the white
paper you are drawing on. You will see
one side of each finger lighted, one side
dark, and the shadow of your hand on
the paper. Here, therefore, are the three
divisions of shade seen at once. And
although the paper is white, and your hand
of a rosy^' colour somewhat darker than
white, yet you wiU see that the shadow all
along, just under the finger which casts it,
is darker than the flesh, and is of a very
deep grey. ^The reason of this is, that much
light is reflected from the paper to the dark
side of your finger, but very little is reflected
from other things to the paper itself in that
chink under your finger.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
45
In general, for tMs reasoi?, a shadow, or,
at any rate, the part of the shadow nearest
the object, is darker than the dark side of
the object. I say in general, because a
thousand accidents may interfere to pre-
vent its being so. Take a little bit of glass,
as a wine-glass, or the ink-bottle, and play
it about a little on the side of your hand
farthest from the window ; you will pre-
sently find you are tiirowing gleams of
light ail over the dark side of our hand, and
in some positions of the glass the reflection
from it will annihilate the shadow altogether,
and you will see your hand dark on the
white paper. Now a stupid painter would
represent, for instance, a drinking-glass,
beside the hand of one of his figures, and
because he had been taught by rule that
‘ shadow was darker than the dark side
he would never think of the reflection from
the glass, but paint a dark grey under the
hand, just as if no glass were there. But a
great painter would be sure to think of the
true eflect, and paint it ; and then comes
the stupid critic, and wonders wh}^ the
hand is so light on its dark side.
Thus it is always dangerous to assert
anything as a rule in matters of art ; yet it
is useful for you to rememb^ that, in a
general way, a shadow is darker than the
dark side of the thing that caats it, sup-
posing the colours otherwise the same ;
that is to say, when a white object casts
46 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
a shadow on white surface, or a dark
object on a dark surface ; the rule will not
hold if the colours are different, the shadow
of a black object on a white surface being,
of course, not so dark, usually, as the black
thing casting it. The only way to ascertain
the ultimate truth in such matters is to look
for it ; but, in the meantime, you will be
helped by noticing that the cracks in the
stone are little ravines, on one side of which
the light strikes sharply, while the other is
in shade. This dark side usually casts a
little darker shadow at the bottom of the
crack ; and the general tone of the stone
surface is not so bright as the light bank of
the ravine. And, therefore, if you get the
surface of the object of a uniform tint, more
or less indicative of shade, and then scratch
out a white spot or streak in it of any shape ;
by putting a dark touch beside this white
one, you may turn it, as you choose, into
either a ridge or an incision, into either a boss
or a cavity. If you put the dark touch on
the side of it nearest the sun, or rather,
nearest the^place that the light comes form,
you %vill make it a cut or cavity ; if you
put it on the opposite side, you will make it
a ridge or mound : and the complete success
of the effect^depends less on depth of shade
than on the rightness of the drawing ; that
is to say, on the evident correspondence of
the form of the shadow with the form that
casts it. In drawing rocks, or wood, or
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
47
anything irregularly siiaped,,«i you will gain
far more by a little patience in following
the forms carefully, though with slight
touches, than by laboured finishing of tex-
tures of surface and transparencies of
shadow.
When 3’ou have got the whole well into
shape, proceed to lay on the stains and
spots with great care, quite as much as you
gave to the forms. Very often, spots or
bars of local colour do more to express
form than even the light and shade, and
they are always interesting as the means
by which IN’ature carries light into her
shadows, and shade into her lights, an art
of which we shall have more to say here-
after, in speaking of composition. Fig. 5
is a rough sketch of a fossil sea-urchin, in
which the projections of the shell are of
black flint, coming through a chalky sur-
face. These projections form dark spots
in the light ; and their sides, rising out of
the shadow, form smaller whitish spots in
the dark. You may take such scattered
lights as these out with the per^^nife, pro-
vided you are just as careful to place them
rightly, as if you got them by a more labor-
ious process.
When you have once got th|; feeling of
the way in which gradation expresses round-
ness and projection, you may try your
strength on anything natural or artificial
that happens to take ^mur fancy, provided
48 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
it be not too^complicated in form. I have
asked you to draw a stone first, because
any irregularities and faUures in your shad-
ing will be less offensive to you, as being
partly characteristic of the rough stone sur-
face, than they would be in a more delicate
subject, and you may as well go on drawing
rounded stones of different shapes for a little
while, tiU you find you can really shade
delicately. You may then take up folds
of thick white drapery, a napkin or towel
thrown carelessly on the table is as good as
anything, and try to express them in the
same way ; only now you will find that your
shades must be wrought with perfect unity
and tenderness, or you vfill lose the flow
of the folds. Always remember that a little
bit perfected is worth more than many
scrawls ; whenever you feel yourself inclined
to scrawl, give up work resolutely, and do
not go back to it till next day. Of course
your towel or napkin must be put on some-
thing that may be locked up, so that its
folds shall not be disturbed till you have
finished. -If you find that the folds will
not look right, get a photograph of a piece
of drapery (there are plenty now to be
bought, taken from the sculpture of the
cathedrals hf Rheims, Amiens, and Chartres,
which will at once educate your hand and
your taste), and copy some piece
you will then ascertain what it is that is
wanting in your studies from nature, whether
ON FIRST PRACTICE
49 -
i]
more gradation, or greater watchfulness of
the disposition of the folds. Probably for
some time you will find yourself failing
painfully in both, for drapery is very diffi-
cult to follow in its sweeps ; but do not lose
courage, for the greater the difficulty, the
greater the gain in the effort. If your eye
is more just in measurement of form than
delicate in perception of tint, a pattern on
the folded surface will help you. Try
whether it does or not : and if the patterned
drapery confuses you, keep for a time to the
simple white one ; but if it helps you, con-
tinue to choose patterned stuffs (tartans
and simple chequered designs are better at
first than flowered ones), and even though
it should confuse you, begin pretty soon to
use a pattern occasionally, copying all the
distortions and perspective modifications of
it among the folds with scrupulous care.
Neither must you suppose yourself con-
descending in doing this. The greatest
masters are always fond of drawing patterns ;
and the greater they are, the more pains
they take to do it truly ^ . Nor c^n there be
1 If we had any business with the reasons of this,
I might perhaps be able to show you some metaphysi-
cal ones for the enjo^^ment, by truly artistical minds,
of the changes wrought by light aifd shade and
perspective in patterned surfaces ; but this is at
present not to the point ; and ail that you need to
knowyis that the drawing of such things is good
exercise, and moreover a kind of exercise which
Titian, Veronese, Tintoret, Giorgione, and Turner
all enjoyed, and strove to excel in.
E
50 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
better practice' at any time, as introdnctorj-
to the noble complication of natmal detail.
For when you can draw the spots which
follow the folds of a printed stuil, you will
have some chance of following the spots
which fall into the folds of the skin of
leopard as he leaps ; but if you cannot draw
the^ manufacture, assuredly you will never
be aSe to draw the creature. So the cloud-
ings on a piece of wood, carefully drawn,
wdl be the best introduction to the drawing
■ of the clouds of the sky, or the waves of the
sea ■ and the dead leaf-patterns on a dam-
ask ’drapery, well rendered, will enable you
to disentangle masterfully the hving leaf-
patterns of a thorn thicket or a violet bank.
^ Observe, however, in drawing aiiy stuff s
or bindings of books, or other finely textured
substances, do not trouble yourself, as yet
much about the woollmess or
tbin<^ • but get it right in shade and iold,
Indttue in pattern. We shall see, in the
course of after-practice, how the pcnne-
lines may be made indicative of texture;
but at pr&ent attend only to the light and
shade and pattern. You will be puzzled at
first by lustrous surfaces, but a little atten-
tion wiU show you that the expression of
these depefids merely on the right dramngs
of their light and shade, and
Put a small black japanned tray on the tabic
in front of some books ; and yon will see it
thft obiects beyond it as in a htue
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
51
black rippled pond ; its o^\nl c*olour mingling
always with that of the reflected objects.
Draw these reflections of the books properly,
making them dark and distorted, as you
will see that they are, and you will find
that this gives the lustre to your tray. It
is not well, however, to draw polished
objects in general practice ; only you should
do one or two in order to understand the
aspect of any lustrous portion of other things,
such as you cannot avoid ; the gold, for
instance, on the edges of books, or the shin-
ing of silk and damask, in which lies a great
part of the expression of their folds. Observe
also that there are very few things which are
totally without lustre ; you will frequently
find a light which puzzles 3mu, on some
apparently dull surface, to be the dim image
of another object.
And now, as soon as you can conscien-
tiously assure me that with the point of the
pen or pencil you can la^^ on any form and
shade you like, I give you leave to use the
brush with one colour, — sepia, or blue-black,
or mixed cobalt and blue-black, or neutral
tint ; and this will much facilitate your
study, and refresh you. But, preliminarily,
you must do one or two more exercises in
tinting. 0*
EXERCISE IX
Prepare your colour as before directed.
Take a brush full of it, and strike it on the
52
the elements of drawing [I
paper in any iiregular shape ; as the brush
^ets dry sweep the surface of the paper with
tt as if you were dusting the paper very
lightly ; every such sweep of the brush
will leave a number of more or less minute
interstices in the colour. The hghter and
faster every dash the better. Then leave
the whole to dry ; and as soon as it is d^,
with little colour in your brush, so tha,t
you can bring it to a fine point, fill up aU
the little interstices one by one, so as to
make the whole as even as you can, and fall
in the larger gaps with more colour, always
trying to let the edges of the first and of the
newly-applied colour exactly meet, and not
lap over each other. When your new colour
dries you wiU find it in places a httle paler
than the first. Retouch it therefore, trying
to get the whole to look quite one piece.
A very small bit of colour thus filled up
with your very best care, and brought to
look as if it had been quite even from the
first will give you better practice and more
skill than a great deal filled in carelessly ;
so do it with your best patience, not leaving
the most minute spot of white ; and do not
fin in the large pieces first and then go to
the small, but quietly and steadUy cover in.
the whole tfp to a marked hmit ; then advance
a Uttle farther, and so on ; thus always
seeing distinctly what is done and what
undone.
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 53
EXERCISE X
Lay a coat of the blue, prepared as usual,
over a whole square of paper. Let it dry.
Then another coat over four fifths of the
square, or thereabouts, leaving the edge
rather irregular than straight, and let it
dry. Then another coat over three fifths ;
another over two fifths ; and the last over
one fifth ; so that the square may present
the appearance of gradual increase in dark-
ness in five bands, each darker than the one
beyond it. Then, with the brush rather dry
(as in the former exercise, when filling up
the interstices), try, with small touches
like those used in the pen etching, only a
little broader, to add, shade delicately beyond
each edge, so as to lead the darker tints into
the paler ones imperceptibly. By touching
the paper very lightly, and putting a multi-
tude of little touches, crossing and recross-
ing in every direction, you mil gradually
be able to work up to the darker tints, out-
side of each, so as quite to efface their edges
and unite them tenderly with* the next
tint. The whole square, when done, should
look evenly shaded from dark to pale, with
no bars, only a crossing texture of touches,
something like chopped strawy over the
whole
^ The use of acquiring this habit of execution is
that you may be able, when you begin to colour,
to let one hue be seen in minute portions, gleaming
between the touches of another.
54 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
Next, take vour rounded pebble ; arrange
it in any light and shade you like ; outline it
very loosely with the pencil. Put on a wash
of colour, prepared very pale, quite fiat
over all of it, except the highest light, leav-
in'^ the edge of your colour quite sharp.
Then another wash, extending only over
the darker parts, leaving the edge of that
sharp also, as in tinting the square. Then
another wash over the still darker parts,
and another over the darkest, ^ leaving each
ed"e to dry sharp. Then, with the small
touches, efface the edges, reinforce the darks,
and work the whole delicately together,
as you would with the pen, till you have
crot it to the likeness of the true light and
shade. You will find that the tint under-
neath' is a great help, and that you can
now get effects much more subtle and com-
plete than with the pen merely.
The use of leaving the edges always sharp is
that you may not trouble or vex the colour,
but let it lie as it falls suddenly on the paper ;
colour looks much more lovely when it has
been laid on with a dash of the brush, and
left to dry in its own way, than when it has
been dragged about and disturbed ; so that
it is always better to let the edges and
forms be a little wrong, even if one cannot
correct them afterwards, than to lose this
fresh quality of the tint. Very great masters
in water-colour can lay on the true forms at
once with a dash, and bad masters in water-
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
55 -
colour lay on grossly false ' forms wth a.
clash, and leave them false ; for people in
general, not knovdng false from true, are
as much pleased with the appearance of
power in the irregular blot as with the pre-
sence of power in the determined one ; but we^
in our beginnings, must do as much as we can
with the broad dash, and then correct wuth
the point, till we are quite right. We must
take care to be right, at whatever cost of
pains ; and then gradually we shall find
we can be right with freedom.
I have hitherto limited ^mu to colour
mixed with two or three teaspoonfuls of
water ; but, in finishing your light and shade
from the stone, you may, as you efface the
edge of the palest coat towards the hght,
use the colour for the small touches with
more and more water, till it is so pale as-
not to be perceptible. Thus you may ob-
tain a perfect gradation to the light. And in
reinforcing the darks, when they are very
dark, you may use less and less water. If
you take the colour tolerably dark on your
brush, only always liquid (not pasty), and
dash away the superfluous colour on blotting-
paper, you will find that, touching the paper
very lightly with the dry brush, you can,
by repeated touches, produce a duster kind
of bloom, very valuable in giving depth to>
shadow ; but it requires great patience and
delicacy of hand to do this properly. You
will find much of this kind of work in the
56 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
grounds and Shadows of William Hunt’s
drawing
As you get used to the brush and colour,
you will gradually find out their ways for
yourself, and get the management of them.
Nothing but practice will do this perfectly ;
but you will often save yourself much dis-
couragement by remembering what I have
■so often asserted — that if anything goes
wrong, it is nearly sure to be refinement that
is wanting, not force ; and connexion, not
alteration. If you dislike the state your
drawing is in, do not lose patience with it,
nor dash at it, nor alter its plan, nor rub it
desperately out, at the place you think
wrong ; but look if there are no shadows
you can gradate more perfectly ,* no little
gaps and rents you can fill ; no forms you can
more delicately define : and do not rush at
any of the errors or incompletions thus dis-
cerned, but efface or supply slowly, and you
will soon find your drawing take another
look. A very useful expedient in producing
some efiects, is to wet the paper, and then
lay the colour on it, more or less wet, accord-
ing to the effect you want. You will
soon see how prettily it gradates itself as it
dries ; when dry, you can reinforce it with
delicate stippling when you want it darker.
Also, while the colour is still damp on the
paper, by drying your brush thoroughly,
and touching the colour with the brush so
3- William Hunt, of the Old Water-colour Society.
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
57
dried, you may take out soft lights with great
tenderness and precision. Try all sorts of
experiments of this kind, noticing how the
colour behaves ; but remembering always
that your final results must be obtained,
and can only be obtained, by pure work with
the point, as much as in the pen drawing.
You mil find also, as you deal with more
and more complicated subjects, that Nature’s
resources in hght and shade are so much
richer than yours, that you cannot possibly
get all, or anything like ail, the gradations
of shadow in any given group. When this
is the case, determine first to keep the broad
masses of things distinct : if, for instance,
there is a green book, and a white piece of
paper, and a black inkstand in the group,
be sure to keep the white paper as a light
mass, the green book as a middle tint mass,
the black inkstand as a dark mass : and do
not shade the folds in the paper, or corners
of the book, so as to equal in depth the dark-
ness of the inkstand. The great difference
between the masters of light and shade, and
imperfect artists, is the power of the former
to draw so delicately as to express form in a
dark-coloured object with little light, and in
a light-coloured object with little darkness ;
and it is better even to leave th^ forms here
and there unsatisfactorily rendered than to
lose the general relations of the great masses.
And this, observe, not because masses are
grand or desirable things in your composition
58 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
(for with composition at present you have
nothing whatever to do), but because it is a
fact that things do so present themselves
to the eyes of men, and that we see paper,
book, and inkstand as tliree separate things,
before we see the wrinkles, or chinks, or
corners of any of the three. Understand,
therefore, at once, that no detail can be as
strongly expressed in drawing as it is in the
reality ; and strive to keep all your shadows
and marks and minor markings on the masses
lighter than they appear to be in Nature ;
you are sure otherwise to get them too dark.
You will in doing this find that you cannot
get the projection of things sufficiently shown;
but never mind that ; there is no need that
they should appear to project, but great
need that their relations of shade to each
other should be preserved. Ail deceptive
projection is obtained by partial exagger-
ation of shadow ; and whenever you see it,
you may be sure the drawing is more or less
bad ; a thoroughly fine drawing or painting
will always show a slight tendency towards
flatness.
Observe, on the other hand, that how-
ever white an object may be, there is always
some small point of it whiter than the rest.
You must therefore have a slight tone of grey
over everything in your picture except on
the extreme high lights ; even the piece of
white paper in your subject, must be toned
slightly down, unless (and there are a thou-
ON FIRST PRACTICE
59
sand chances to one against its being so) it
should all be turned so as fully to front the
light. By examining the treatment of the
white objects in any pictures accessible to
you by Paul Veronese or Titian, you will
soon understand this
As soon as you feel yourself capable of
expressing with the brush the undulations of
surfaces and the relations of masses, you may
proceed to draw more complicated and beau-
tiful things And first, the boughs of
trees, now not in mere dark relief, but in
full rounding. Take the first bit of branch or
stump that comes to hand, with a fork in it ;
cut off the ends of the forking branches, so
as to leave the whole only about a foot in
length ; get a piece of paper the same size.
1 At Marlborough House, among the four principal
examples of Turner’s later water-colour drawing,
perhaps the most neglected is that of fishing-boats
and fish at sunset, it is one of his most wonderful
works, though unfinished. If you examine the
larger white fishing-boat sail, you will find it has a
little spark of pure white in its right-hand upper
corner, about as large as a minute pin’s head, and
that all the surface of the sail is gradated to that
focus. Try to copv this sail once or twice, and you
will begin ho understand Turner’s work. Similarly
the wing of the Cupid in Correggio’s large picture in
the National Gallerv is focused to two little grains of
white at the top of it. The points •f light on the
white fiower in the \weath round the head of the
dancing child-faun, in Titian’s Bacchus and Ariadne
exemplify the same thing.
I shall not henceforward number the exercises
recommended : as they are distinguished only by
increasing difficulty of subject, not by difference of
method.
6o
THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
fix vour bit o/ branch in some place where
its position will not be altered and draw it
thoroughly, in all its light and shade full
size; striving, above all tilings, to get an
accurate expression of its structure atjzhe
fork of the branch. WTien once you ha\-e
mastered the tree at its armpits, you will
have little more trouble with it.
Always draw whatever the background
happens to be, exactly as you see it. Where-
ever vou have fastened the bough, you must
draw' whatever is behind it, ugly or not, else
you will never know whether the hght and
shade are right ; they may appear quite wTong
to vou, only for want of the background.
A.nd this general law is to be observed in all
^our studies: whatever you draw, draw
completely and unalteringly, else you never
know if what you have done is nght, or
whether vou could have done it rightly had
you tried. There is nothing visible out of
which you may not get useful practice.
Next to put the leaves on your boughs.
Gather ’a small tivig with four or leaves
on it, put it into water, put a sheet of hpt-
coloured or white paper behind it, so that aU
the leaves may be relieved in dark frointhe
white field ; then sketch in their dark shape
carefully wit*h pencU as you did the compli-
cated boughs, in order to be sure that all
their masses and interstices are ngli in.
shape before you begin shading, and com-
plete as far as you can with pen and ink, in
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 6i
the manner of Fig. 6, which ii a young shoot
of lilac.
Yon will probably, in spite of all your
pattern drawings, be at first puzzled by leaf
foreshortening ; especially because the look
of retirement or projection depends not so
much on the perspective of the leaves them-
selves as on the double sight of the two eyes.
Now there are certain artifices by which
good painters can partly conquer this diffi-
culty ; as slight exaggerations of force or
colour in the nearer parts, and of obscurity
in the more distant ones ; but you must
not attempt anything of this kind. When
you are first sketching the leaves, shut one of
your eyes, fix a point in the background,
to bring the point of one of the leaves against,
and so sketch the whole bough as you see
it in a fixed position, looking with one eye
only. Your drawing never can be made to
look like the object itself, as you see that
object with both eyes but it can be made
perfectly like the object seen vdth one, and
3 mu must be content when you have got a
resemblance on these terms.
In order to get clearly at the notion of the
thing to be done, take a single long leaf, hold
it with its point towards you, and as flat
as you can, so as to see nothing«of it but its
^ If you understand the principle of the stereoscope
you will know why ; if not, it does not matter;
trust me for the truth of the statement, as I cannot
explain the principle without diagrams and much
loss of time. See, however. Note i, in Appendix I.
<52 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
thinness, as if 5^on wanted to know how thin
it was ; outline it so. Then slope it down
gradually towards you, and watch it as it
lengthens out to its full length, held perpen-
dicularly down before 5 ^ou. Draw it in three
or four different positions between these
extremes, with its ribs as they appear in each
position, and you will soon find out how it
must be.
Draw first only two or tliree of the leaves ;
then larger clusters ; and practise, in this
way, more and more complicated pieces of
bough and leafage, till you find you can
master the most difficult arrangements,
not consisting of more than ten or twelve
leaves. You will find as you do this, if you
have an opportunity of visiting an\’' gallery
of pictures, that you take a much more lively
interest than before in the work of the great
masters ; you will see that very often their
best backgrounds are composed of little more
than a few sprays of leafage, carefully studied,
brought against the distant sky ; and that
another wi'eath or two form the chief interest
of their foregrounds. If you live in London
you may test your progress accurately by
the degree of admiration you feel for the
leaves of vine round the head of the Bacchus,
in Titian’s Bacchus and Ariadne. All this,
however, will not enable you to draw a mass
of foliage. You will find, on looking at
any rich piece of vegetation, that it is only
one or two of the nearer clusters that you
II'
i] ON FIRST PRACTICE 63
can by any possibility^ dravv^ in this complete
manner. The mass is too vast, and too in-
tricate, to be thus dealt with.
You must now therefore have recourse to
some confused mode of execution, capable
of expressing the confusion of Nature. And,
first, you must understand what the character
of that confusion is. If you look carefully
at the outer sprays of any tree at twenty or
thirty yards distance, you mil see them de-
fined against the sky in masses, which, at
first, look quite definite ; but if you examine
them, you will see, mingled with the real
shapes of leaA^es, many indistinct lines, which
are, some of them, stalks of leaves, and some,
leaves seen with the edge turned towards
you, and coming into sight in a broken way ;
for, supposing the real leaf shape to be as
at a. Fig. 7, this, when removed some
yards from the eye, will appear dark against
the sky, as at 6 ; then, when removed some
yards farther still, the stalk and point dis-
appear altogether, the middle of the leaf
becomes httle more than a line ; and the
result is the condition at c, only with this
farther subtlety in the look of it, inexpressible
in the woodcut, that the stalk and point of
the leaf, though they have disappeared to
the eye, have yet some influence in checking
the light at the places where they exist, and
cause a slight dimness about the part of the
leaf which remains visible, so that its perfect
effect could only be rendered by two layers
64 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
of colour, one subduing the sky tone a little,
the next drawing the broken portions of the
leaf, as at c, and carefully indicating the
greater darkness of the spot in the middle,
where the under side of the leaf is.
This is the perfect theory of the matter.
In practice w^e cannot reach such accuracy ;
but we shall be able to render the general
look of the foliage satisfactorily by the fol-
lowing mode of practice.
Gather a spray of any tree, about a foot
or eighteen inches long. Fix it firmly by
the stem in anything that will support it
steadily ; put it about eight feet away
from you, or ten if you are far-sighted. Put
a sheet of not very white paper behind it,
as usual. Then draw very carefully, first
placing them with pencil, and then filling
them up with ink, every leaf-mass and stalk
of it in simple black profile, as you see them
against the paper : Fig. 8 is a bough of Phil-
lyrea so drawn. Do not be afraid of running
the leaves into a black mass when they come
together ; this exercise is only to teach you
what the actual shapes of such masses are
when seen against the sky.
Make two careful studies of this kind of
one bough of every common tree — oak, ash,
elm, birch, beech, etc. ; in fact, if you are
good, and industrious, you will make one
such study carefully at least three times a
week, until you have examples of every
sort of tree and shrub you can get branches
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
65
of. You are to make two studies of each
bough, for this reason — all masses of foliage
have an upper and under surface, and the
side view of them, or profile, shows a wholly
different organization of branches from that
seen in the view from above. They are
generally seen more or less in profile, as you
look at the whole tree, and Nature puts her
best composition into the profile arrange-
ment. But the view from above or below
occurs not unfrequently, also, and it is quite
necessary you should draw it if you -wish to
understand the anatomy of the tree. The
difference between the two views is often far
greater than you could easily conceive. For
instance, in Fig. 9, a is the upper view, and
b the profile, of a single spray of Phillyrea.
Fig. 8 is an intermediate view of a larger
bough ; seen from beneath, but at some
lateral distance also.
Wlien you have done a few branches in
this manner, take one of the drawings, and
put it first a yard away from you, then a
yard and a half, then two yards ; observd
how the thinner stalks and leaves gradually
disappear, leaving only a vague and slight
darkness where they were, and make another
study of the eff'ect at each distance, taking
care to draw nothing more than*you really
see, for in this consists all the difference
between what would be merely a miniature
drawing of the leaves seen near, and a full-
size drawing of the same leaves at a distance,
' F
THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING
66
Bv fuU size, I mean the size which they would
Shy appear of if their outline were traced
fhSgh a pane of glass held at the same
Stance from the eye at which you mean to
bold your drawing. You can always ascer-
tain tliis full size of any object by
yomSSr upright before you, at the dis-
tance frS your eye at which you wish your
Sa ving toS seen. Bring its edge across
the object you have to draw, and mark upon
this edge the points where the outline of the
objct crosses, or goes behind, the edge o
the paper. You will always find it thus
measured, smaller than you supposed.
When you have made a few careful experi-
ments of this kind on your own drawings
(which are better for practice, at first, than
the real trees, because the black profile in
the drawing is quite stable, and does not
shake, and is not confused by sparkles of
lustre on the leaves), you may try the extrem-
iSs of the real trees, only not doing much
at a time, for the brightness the sk^ wih
dazzle and perplex your sight. And this
brightness causes, I believe, some loss of the
outline itself ; at least the chemical action
of the hght in a photograph extends much
within the edges of the leaves, and, as it
were eats'" them away, so that no tree e- -
tremity, stand it ever so still, nor any other
form doming against bright sky, is truly
Si by a pholostapb i »<> a y»
in rlrawinsf a few sprays right y, you
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 67
will find the result much more lovely and
interesting than any photograph can be.
All this dif&culty, however, attaches to
the rendering merely the dark form of the
sprays as they come against the sky. Within
those sprays, and in the heart of the tree,
there is a complexity of a much more embar-
rassing Mnd ; for nearly all leaves have
some lustre, and all are more or less trans-
lucent (letting light through them) ; there-
fore, ill any given leaf, besides the intricacies
of its own proper shadows and foreshorten-
ings, there are three series of circumstances
which alter or hide its forms. First,
shadows cast on it by other leaves — often
ver\’' forcibly. Secondly, light reflected
from its lustrous surface, sometimes the blue
of the sky, sometimes the white of clouds, or
the sun itself flashing like a star. Thirdly,
forms and shadows of other leaves, seen as
darknesses through the translucent parts
of the leaf ; a most important element of
foliage effect, but wholh?- neglected by land-
scape artists in general.
The consequence of all this is, that except
now and then by chance, the form of a com-
plete leaf is never seen ; but a marvellous
and quaint confusion, very definite, indeed,
in its evidence of direction of growth, and
unity of action, but wholly indefinable and
inextricable, part by part, by any amount
of patience. You cannot possibly work it
out in facsimile, though you took a twelve-
68 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [:
.. 4.^otrpe- and you must there-
mouth s mode of execution
fore try to ^ its own
wmch . the variety and mystery
observation of tree m
cate, ®° and texture of drapery,
so are ^ ^ ^nd although methods and
6 teritfes of handling are wholly useless
dexteiities thorough
^ ^ve of the form of the thing ; so that
knowledge of the tor perfectly, then
a y„. c»~t to- „Lta of
much less a tree , clouds ;
rSfr sTg e iL" Uade perfectly,
" ch lesfa grSs ba^ ; yet having once
much less a riprisive form, you may
r rd'muTin Sr to perfection of
'^nrSTcSi^Bt your knowledge by every
lid of method and dexteri^of^^^^^
® do 'you must now look at Art as weU as
!: ^r«nd Le what means painters and
S^rS’Sve actually employed for the
I]
ON FIRST PRACTICE
69
expression of these subtleties, \\niereupoii
arises the question, what opportunity you
have to obtain engravings ? You ought,
if it is at all in your power, to possess your-
self of a certain number of good examples
of Turner's engraved works : if this be not
in 3.mur power, you must Just make the best
use you can of the shop windows, or of any
plates of which you can obtain a loan. Very
possibly, the difficult}^ of getting sight of
them may stimulate you to put them to
better use. But, supposing your means
admit of your doing so, possess yourself,
first, of the illustrated edition either of
Rogers's Italy or Rogers's Poems, and then of
about a dozen plates named in the annexed
lists. The prefixed letters indicate the
particular points deserving your study in
each engraving Be sure, therefore, that
i If you cam get first the plates marked with a
star. The letter means as follows :
a stands for architecture, including distant grouping
of towns, cottages, etc.
c clouds, including mist and aerial effects.
f foliage.
g ground, incuding low hills, when not rocky.
I effects of light.
m mountains, or bold rocky ground.
p power of general arrangement and effect.
q quiet water.
r running or rough water ; or rivers, even if calm,
when their line of flow is beautifuEfy marked.
From The England Series
ac f f Arundel f mr Bolton Abbey
a f I Ashby de la i gr Buckfastleigh *
Zouche alp Caernarvon .
al qr Barnard Castle * cl q Castle Upnor
70
70 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
your selection includes, at all events, one
plate marked with each letter-of course the
From the England Sm«— continued.
"/icowef "i; Plymouth
nin"uef°"" i m [ Koe'castle
a / g\ Knaresborough* / 1 m r Cham Bridge over
.fi^eSSsands* High Force of
/^iSrAbbey «/STrematon
‘ i l I udlow ^ Ulleswater^
a/J Margate / m Valle Crucis
FfOM The Keepsake
Arena St. Germain en
I m DrachenfeUs , Laye
I P ^ Florence
I Ballyburgli Ness’^'
From The Bible Series
/ m Mount Lebanon Joppa ^
^ m Rock of Moses at clp q Solomor s 1 ools
cinni a I Santa Saba
Jedcho aZPoolofBethesda
From Scoffs Works
a/ iv,T<^lT‘n?e ^ Glencoe
^ff Dryburgh* cm Loch Coriskin
a I Caerlaverock
From The Rivers of France
«, a Chateau of Am- a p Rouen Cathe
m p q Arona
I m DrachenfeUs
Marly*
ac g Joppa
clp q Solomon s Pools-**
a I Santa Saba
a I Pool of Bethesda
a q Chdteau of Am-
boise, with
large bridge on
right
Ipr Rouen, looking
doGm the
river, poplars
on right*
alp Rouen, with
cathedral and
rainbow, avenue
on left
dral
fp Pont de I’Arche
f I p View on the
Seine, with
avenue
a cp Bridge of Meulan
e gp r Caudebec*
i] ON FIRST PRACTICE 71
plates marked mth two- or three letters are,
for the most part, the best. Do not get
more than twelve of these plates, nor even
all the twelve at first. For the more engrav-
ings you have, the less attention you will
pay to them. It is a general truth that the
enjoyment derivable from art cannot be
increased in quantity, beyond a certain
point, by quantity of possession ; it is only
spread, as it were, over a larger surface, and
very often dulled by finding ideas repeated
in different works. Now, for a beginner,
it is always better that his attention should
be concentrated on one or tw^o good things,
and all his enjoyment founded on them, than
that he should look at many, with divided
thoughts. He has much to discover ; and
his best way of discovering it is to think
long over few things, and watch them ear-
nestly. It is one of the worst errors of this
age to try to know and to see too much :
the men who seem to know everything, never
in reality know anything rightly. Beware
of hand-hook knowledge.
These engravings are, in general, more
for you to look at than to copy ; and they
will be of more use to you when we come to
talk of composition, than they are at present ;
still, it will do you a great de%l of good,
sometimes to try how far you can get their
delicate texture, or gradations of tone ; as
your pen-and-ink drawing wiU be apt to
72
THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
incline too much to a scratch}^ and broken
kind of shade. For instance, the texture
of the white convent wall, and the drawing
of its tiled roof, in the vignette at p. 227 of
Rogers’s Poems, is as exquisite as work can
possibly be ; and it will be a great and
profitable achievement if you can at all
approach it. In like manner, if 5^ou can at
all imitate the dark distant country at p. 7,
or the sky at p. 80, of the same volume, or
the foliage at pp. 12 and 144, it will be good
gain ; and if you can once draw the rolling
clouds and running river at p. 9 of the Italy,
or the cit}^ in the vignette of Aosta at p. 25,
or the moonlight at p. 223, you will find that
even Nature herself cannot afterw'ards very
terribly puzzle you with her torrents, or
towers, or moonlight.
You need not copy touch for touch, but
try to get the same effect. And if you feel
discouraged by the delicacy required, and
then begin to think that engraving is not
drawing, and that copying it cannot help
you to draw, remember that it differs from
common drawing only by the difficulties it
has to encounter. You perhaps have got
into a careless habit of thinking that engrav-
ing is a mere business, easy enough when
one has gcTc into the knack of it. On the
contrary, it is a form of dramng more diffi-
cult than common drawing, by exactly so
much as it is more difficult to cut steel than
to move the pencil over paper. It is true
ij ON FIRST PRACTICE 73
that there are certain mechanical aids and
methods which reduce it at certain stages
either to pure machine work, or to more or
less a habit of hand and arm ; but this is not
so in the foliage you are trying to copy, of
which the best and prettiest parts are always
etched — that is, drawn with a fine steel point
and free hand : onty the fine made is white
instead of black, wliich renders it much more
difficult to judge of what you are about.
And the trying to copy these plates \ffill be
good for 3^ou, because it will awaken you to
the real labour and skill of the engraver,
and make you understand a little how people
must work, in this world, who have reall}^ to
do anything in it.
Do not, however, suppose that I give ^’’ou
the engraving as a model — far from it ; but
it is necessary you should be able to do as
well ^ before you think of doing better, and
you will find many httle helps and hints in
the various work of it. Only remember
that all engravers' foregrounds are bad ;
whenever you see the peculiar wriggling
parallel lines of modern engravings become
distinct, you must not copy ; nor admire :
it is only the softer masses, and distances ;
and portions of the foliage in the plates
marked /, which you may copy*. The best
i As well — ^not as minutely : the diamond cuts
finer lines on the steel than you can draw on paper
with your pen ; but you must be able to get tones
as even, and touches 8 <=5 firm.
74 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
r
for this purpose, if you can get it, is the
‘ Chain bridge over the Tees ' of the England
Series ; the thicket on the right is very
beautiful and instructive, and very like
Turner. The foliage in the ' Ludlow ' and
‘ Powis ’ is also remarkably good.
Besides these line engravings, and to pro-
tect you from what harm there is in their
influence, you are to provide yourself, if
possible, with a Rembrandt etching, or a
photograph of one (of figures, not landscape).
It does not matter of what subject, or whether
a sketchy or finished one, but the sketchy
ones are generally cheapest, and will teach
you most. Copy it as well as you can, notic-
ing especially that Rembrandt’s most rapid
lines have steady purpose ; and that they
are laid \vith almost inconceivable precision
when the object becomes at all interesting.
The ‘ Prodigal Son ’, ‘ Death of the Virgin
' Abraham and Isaac ’, and such others, con-
taining incident and character rather than
chiaroscuro, will be the most instructive.
You can buy one ; copy it well ; then
exchange it, at little loss, for another ; and
so, gradually, obtain a good knowledge of
his system. Whenever you have an oppor-
tunity of examining his work at museums,
etc., do so mth the greatest care, not looking
at many things, but a long time at each. You
must also provide yourself, if possible, with
an engraving of Albert Durer’s. This you
wiU not be able to copy ; but you must keep
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 75
it beside you, and refer to it as a standard
of precision in line. If you can get one with
a wing in it, it will be best. The crest with
the cock, that with the skull and satyr, and
the ‘ Melancholy are the best you could
have, but any will do. Perfection in chiar-
oscuro drawing lies between these two
masters, Rembrandt and Diirer. Rem-
brandt is often too loose and vague ; and
Diirer has little or no effect of mist or uncer-
tainty. If you can see anywhere a drawing
by Leonardo, you will find it balanced
between the two characters ; but there are
no engravings which present this perfection,
and your style will be best formed, there-
fore, by alternate study of Rembrandt and
Diirer. Lean rather to Diirer ; it is better
for amateurs to err on the side of precision
than on that of vagueness : and though, as
I have just said, you cannot copy a Diirer,
yet try every now and then a quarter of an
inch square or so, and see how much nearer
you can come ; you cannot possibly try to
draw the leafy crown of the ‘ Melancholia ^
too often.
If you cannot get either a Rembrandt or
a Diirer, you may still learn much by care-
fuilj^ studying any of George Cruikshank’s
etchings, or Leech's woodcuts iti Punchy on
the free side ; with Alfred RetheFs and
Richter’s ^ on the severe side. But in so
^ See, for account of these plates, the Appendix
on * Works to be studied ’.
76 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
doing you will need to notice the following
points :
When either the material (as the copper
or wood) or the time of an artist, does not
permit him to make a perfect drawing — that
is to say, one in which no lines shall be promin-
ently visible — and he is reduced to show
the black lines, either drawn by the pen, or
on the wood, it is better to make these lines
help, as far as may be, the expression of
texture and form. You will thus find many
textures, as of cloth or grass or flesh, and
many subtle effects of hght, expressed by
Leech with zigzag or crossed or curiously
broken lines ; and you will see that Alfred
Rethel and Richter constantly express the
direction and rounding of surfaces b^^ the
direction of the lines which shade them.
All these various means of expression will be
useful to you, as far as you can learn them,
provided you remember that they are merely
a kind of shorthand ; telling certain facts,
not in quite the right way, but in the only
possible way under the conditions : and pro-
vided in any after use, of such means, you
never try to show your own dexterity, but
only to get as much record of the object as
you can in a given time ; and that you con-
tinualiy m^ke efforts to go beyond such
shorthand, and draw portions of the objects
rightly.
And touching this question of direction
of lines as indicating that of surface, observe
these few points :
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 77
•
If lines are to be distinctly shown, it is
better that, so far as they can indicate any-
thing by their direction, they should explain
rather than oppose the general character
of the object. Thus, in the piece of wood-
cut from Titian, Fig. lo, the lines are service-
able by expressing, not only the shade of the
trunk, but partly also its roundness, and the
flow of its grain. And Albert Durer, whose
work was chiefly engraving, sets himself
always thus to make his lines as valuable as
possible ; telling much by them, both of
shade and direction of surface : and if you
were always to be limited to engraving on
copper (and did not want to express effects
of mist or darkness, as well as delicate forms),
Albert Diirer’s way of work would be the best
example for you. But, inasmuch as the
perfect way of drawing is by shade without
lines, and the great painters always conceive
their subject as complete, even when they
are sketching it most rapidly, you will find
that, when they are not limited in means,
they do not much trust to direction of line,
but will often scratch in the shade of a
rounded surface with nearly straight lines,
that is to say, with the easiest and quickest
lines possible to themselves. When the
hand is free, the easiest line feft* it to draw
is one inclining from the left upwards to the
right, or vice versa, from the right downwards
to the left ; and when done very quickly,
the line is hooked a little at the end by the
78 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
effort at return to the next. Hence, 3^011
will always find the pencil, chalk, or pen
sketch of a very great master full of these
kind of lines ; and even if he draws carefully,
you will find him using simple straight lines
from left to right, when an inferior master
would have used curved ones. Fig. 1 1 is a
fair facsimile of part of a sketch of RaphaeFs,
which exhibits these characters very dis-
tinctly. Even the careful drawings of
Leonardo da Vinci are shaded most commonly
with straight lines ; and you may alwa3?'S
assume it as a point increasing the proba-
bility of a drawing being by a great master
if you find rounded surfaces, such as those
of cheeks or lips, shaded with straight lines.
But you will also now understand how
easy it must be for dishonest dealers to forge
or imitate scrawled sketches like Figure ii,
and pass them for the work of great masters ;
and how the power of determining the gen-
uineness of a drawing depends entirely on your
knowing the facts of the obj ect drawn, and per-
ceiving whether the hasty handling is all
conducive to the expression of those truths.
In a great man's work, at its fastest, no line
is thrown away, and it is not by the rapidity,
but the economy of the execution, that you
know him tb be great. Now to judge of
this economy, you must know exactly what
he meant to do, otherwise you cannot of
course discern how far he has done it ; that
is, you must know the beauty and nature
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 79
of the thing he was drawing. All judg-
ment of art thus finally founds itself on know-
ledge of Nature.
But farther observe, that this scrawled,
or economic, or impetuous execution is never
affectedly impetuous. If a great man is not
in a hurry, he never pretends to be ; if he has
no eagerness in his heart, he puts none into
his hand ; if he thinks his efiect would be
better got mth two lines, he never, to show
his dexterit^^ tries to do it with one. Be
assured, therefore (and tliis is a matter
of great importance), that you will never
produce a great drawing by imitating the
execution of a great master. Acquire his
knowledge and share his feelings, and the
easy execution will fall from your hand as
it did from his ; but if you merely scrawl
because he scrawled, or blot because he
blotted, you will not only never advance in
power, but every able draughtsman, and
every judge whose opinion is worth having,
will know you for a cheat, and despise you
accordingly.
Again, observe respecting the use of out-
line :
All merely outlined drawings are bad, for
the simple reason, that an artist of any power
can always do more, and tell ihose, by quit-
ting his outhnes occasionally, and scratching
in a few lines for shade, than he can by
restricting himself to outline only. Hence
the fact of his so restricting himself, whatever
8o THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
may be the occasion, shows him to be a bad
draughtsman, and not to know how to apply
his power economically. This hard law, how-
ever, bears only on drawings meant to re-
main in the state in which you see them ;
not on those which were meant to be pro-
ceeded with, or for some mechanical use.
It is sometimes necessary to draw pure out-
lines, as an incipient arrangement of a com-
position, to be filled up afterwards with
colour, or to be pricked through and used
as patterns or tracings ; but if, with no such
ultimate object, making the drawing wholly
for its own sake, and meaning it to remain in
the state he leaves it, an artist restricts him-
self to outline, he is a bad draughtsman,
and his work is bad. There is no exception
to this law, A good artist habitually sees
masses, not edges, and can in every case
make his drawing more expressive (with any
given quantity of work) by rapid shade than
by contours ; so that all good work what-
ever is more or less touched with shade, and
more or less interrupted as outline.
Hence, the published works of Retsch,
and all the English imitations of them, and
all outline engravings from pictures, are bad
work, and only serve to corrupt the public
taste. And of such outlines, the worst are
those which are darkened in some part of
their course by way of expressing the dark
side, as Flaxman's from Dante, and such
others ; because an outline can only be true
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 8i
so long as it accurately represents the form
of the given object with one of its edges.
Thus, the outline a and the outline h. Fig.
12, are both true outlines of a ball ; because,
however thick the line may be, whether we
take the interior or exterior edge of it, that
edge of it always draws a true circle. But
c is a false outline of a ball, because either
the inner or outer edge of the black line must
be an untrue circle, else the line could not be
thicker in one place than another. Hence
all ' force’, as it is called, is gained by falsifi-
cation of the contours ; so that no artist
whose eye is true and fine could endure to
look at it. It does indeed often happen that
a painter, sketching rapidly, and trying again
and again for some line which he cannot quite
strike, blackens or loads the first line by
setting others beside and across it ; and then
a careless observer supposes it has been
thickened on purpose : or, sometimes also,
at a place where shade is afterwards to en-
close the form, the painter will strike a
broad dash of this shade beside his outline
at once, looking as if he meant to thicken the
outline ; whereas this broad line is only the
first instalment of the future shadow, and
the outline is really drawn with its inner edge.
And thus, far from good draughtsihen dark-
ening the lines which turn away from the
light, the tendency with them is rather to
darken them towards the light, for it is there
in general that shade will ultimately enclose
^ See Note 2, in Appendix I.
G
32 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
them The best example of this treatment
that I know is Raphael’s sketch, m the
Louvre, of the head of the angel pursuing
Heliodorus, the one that shows part of the
leit eve ; where the dark strong lines which
terminate the nose and forehead towards
the light are opposed to tender and light
ones behind the ear, and in other places
towards the shade. You will see in Fig. ii
the same principle variously exemphfied ; the
principal dark lines, in the head and drapery
of the arms, being on the side turned to the
these refinements and -ultimate prin-
ciples, however, do not efiect your drawing
for the present. You must try to make
vour outlines as equal as possible; and
employ pure outline only for the two follow-
ing' purposes: either (i) to steady your
hand, as in Exercise II, for if you cannot
draw the line itself, you will never be able to
terminate your shadow in the precise shape
required, when the line is absent ; or ( 2 ) to
<Tive you shorthand memoranda of forms,
when you are pressed for time. Thus the
forms of distant trees in groups are defined,
for the most part, by the light edge of the
rounded mass of the nearer one being shown
against the darker part of the rounded
mass of a more distant one ; and to draw this
properly, nearly as much work is required to
round each tree as to round the stone in Fig. 5-
Of course you cannot often get time to do
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 83
this ; but if you mark the terminal line of
each tree as is done by Diirer in Fig. 13, you
will get a most useful memorandum of their
arrangement, and a very interesting drawing.
Only observe in doing this, you must not,
because the procedure is a quick one, hurry
that procedure itself. You will find, on
copying that bit of Diirer, that every one
of his lines is firm, deliberate, and accurately
descriptive as far as it goes. It means a
bush of such a size and such a shape, defin-
ately observed and set down ; it contains
a true ‘ signalement ^ of every nut-tree, and
apple-tree, and higher bit of hedge, all round
that village. If you have not time to draw
thus carefully, do not draw at ail — ^you are
merely wasting your work and spoiling your
taste. When you have had four or five
years’ practice you may be able to make
useful memoranda at a rapid rate, but not
yet ; except sometimes of light and shade, in
a way of which I will tell you presently.
And this use of outline, note farther, is
wholly confined to objects which have edges
or limits. You can outline a tree or a stone,
when it rises against another tree or stone ;
but you cannot outline folds in drapery, or
waves in water ; if these are to be expressed
at all it must be by some sort of*shade, and
therefore the rule that no good drawing can
consist throughout of pure outline remains
absolute. You see, in that woodcut of
Durer’s, his reason for even limiting himself
84 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
so ranch to ontline as he has, in those distant
woods and plains, is that he may leave them
in bright light, to be thrown out still more
by the dark sky and the dark village spire :
and the scene becomes real and sunny only
b}^ the addition of these shades.
Understanding, then, thus much of the use
of outhne, we will go back to our question
about tree drawing left unanswered at page
68. We were, you remember, in pursuit of
mystery among the leaves. Now, it is quite
easy to obtain mystery and disorder, to any
extent ; but the difficulty is to keep organiz-
ation in the midst of m3^stery. And you
will never succeed in doing this unless you
lean always to the definite side, and allow
yourself rarely to become quite vague, at
least through all your early practice. So,
after your single groups of leaves, your first
step must be to conditions like Figs. 14 and
15, which are careful facsimiles of two por-
tions of a beautiful woodcut of Durer’s,
The Flight into Egv^pt. Copy these care-
fully, — never mind how little at a time, but
thoroughly ; then trace the Durer, and apply
it to your drawing, and do not be content
till the one fits the other, else your eye is
not true enough to carry you safely through
meshes of Ireal leaves. And in the course
of doing this, you will find that not a line
nor dot of Durer’s can be displaced without
harm ; that all add to the effect, and either
express something, or illumine something, or
1
I
I] ON FIRST PRACTICE 85
relieve something. If, afterwards, you copy
any of the pieces of modern tree drawing,
of which so many rich examples are given
constantly in our cheap illustrated periodicals
(any of the Christmas numbers of last year’s
Illustrated News or Times are full of them),
you will see that, though good and forcible
general effect is produced, the hues are thrown
in b}^ thousands without special intention,
and might just as well go one way as another,
so only that there be enough of them to
produce all together a well-shaped effect of
intricacy : and you will find that a little
careless scratching about with your pen will
bring you very near the same result without
an effort ; but that no scratching of pen, nor
any fortunate chance, nor anything but
downright skill and thought, wiU imitate so
much as one leaf of Durer’s. Yet there is
considerable intricacy and glittering con-
fusion in the interstices of those vine leaves
of his, as well as of the grass.
When you have got familiarized to his firm
manner, you may draw from Nature as much
as you like in the same way ; and when you
are tired of the intense care required for this,
you may fall into a little more easy mass-
ing of the leaves, as in Fig. 10. This is
facsimiled from an engraving "kfter Titian,
but an engraving not quite first-rate in
manner, the leaves being a little too formal ;
still, it is a good enough model for your
times of rest ; and when you cannot carry the
86 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [i
thing even so fax as this, you may sketch the
forms of the masses, as in Fig. i6 , taking
care always to have thorough command
over your hand ; that is, not to let the mass
take a free shape because your hand ran
-libly over the paper, but because in nature
it has actually a free and noble shape, and
vou have faithfuUy followed the same. ^
And now that we have come to questions
of nohU shape, as well as true shape, and
that we are going to draw from nature a
our pleasure, other considerations enter into
the business, which are by no means confined
to first practice, but extend to all practice ;
these (as this letter is long enough, I should
think, to satisfy even the most exacting of
corresnondents) I will arrange in a second
letter • praying you only to excuse the tire-
someness of this first one— tiresomeness
inseparable from directions touching the
beginning of any art— and to believe me,
even though I am trying to set you to dull
and hard work,
Very faithfully yours,
J. Ruskin.
1 This sketch is not of a tree standing on its head,
though it looks like it. You will find it explamed
presently. <
II
SKETCHING FROM NATURE
My dear Reader, — The work we have
already gone through together has, I hope,
enabled you to draw with fair success, either
rounded and simple masses, like stones, or
complicated arrangements of form, like
those of leaves ; provided only these masses
or complexities will stay quiet for you to
copy, and do not extend into quantity so
great as to baffle your patience. But if we
are now to go out to the fields, and to draw
anything like a complete landscape, neither
of these conditions wiU any more be observed
for us. The clouds will not wait while we
copy their heaps or clefts ; the shadows will
escape from us as we try to shape them, each,
in its stealthy minute march, still leaving
light where its tremulous edge had rested the
moment before, and involving in eclipse
objects that had seemed safe from its in-
fluence ; and instead of the small clusters
of leaves which we could reckon point by
point, embarrassing enough even though
numerable, we have now leaves as little to
be counted as the sands of the sea, and rest-
less, perhaps, as its foam.
87 ' .
88 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
In all that we have to do now, therefore,
direct imitation becomes more or less impos-
sible. It is always to be aimed at so far as
it is possible ; and when you have tirne and
oppoLnity, some portions of a landscape
as you gain greater skiU, be rendered
ivith an approximation almost to mirrored
portraiture. Still, whatever sloll you may
mach, there wiU always be need of judg-
ment to choose, and of speed to seize, cer-
tain things that are principal or ;
and you must give more and more effort
daily to the observance of characteristic
points, and the attainment of concise methods.
I have directed your attention early to
fohage for two reasons. First, that it is
always accessible as a study ; and secondly,
that * its inodes of growth present simple
examples of the importance of leading or
governing lines. It is by seizing these lead-
ing lines, when we cannot seize all, that like-
ness and expression are given to a portrait,
and grace and a kind of vital truth to the
rendering of every natural form. I call it
vital truth, because these chief^ lines are
always expressive of the past history and
present action of the thing. They show in
a mountain, first, how it was built or heaped
up ; and secondly, how it is now being worn
away, and from what quarter the wildest
storms strike it. In a tree, they show what
kind of fortune it has had to endure from
its childhood : how troublesome trees have
II] SKETCHING FROM FfATURE 89
come in its way, and pushed it aside, and
tried to strangle or starve it ; where and
when kind trees have sheltered it, and grown
up lovingly together with it, bending as it
bent ; what winds torment it most ; what
boughs of it behave best, and bear most
fruit ; and so on. In a wave or cloud, these
leading lines show the run of the tide and
of the wind, and the sort of change, which
the water or vapour is at any moment endur-
ing in its form, as it meets shore, or counter-
wave, or melting sunshine. Now remember,
notliing distinguishes great men from inferior
men more than their always, whether in life
or in art, knowing the way things are going.
Your dunce thinks they are standing still,
and draws them all fixed ; your wise man
sees the change or changing in them, and
draws them so, — the animal in its motion,
the tree in its growth, the cloud in its course,
the mountain its wearing away. Try al-
ways, whenever you look at a form, to see
the lines in it which have had power over
its past fate and will have power over its
futurity. Those are its awful lines ; see
that you seize on those, whatever else you
miss. Thus, the leafage in Fig. 16 grew
round the root of a stone pine, on the brow
of a crag at Sestri near Genoa, and all the
sprays of it are thrust away in their first
budding by the great rude root, and spring
out in every direction round it, as water
splashes when a heavy stone is thrown into
90 THE elements OF DRAWING [n
it. Then, when they have got clear of the
root they begin to bend up again ; some o
wng W .t...
have a great notion of upright, *
thev can; and this struggle of theirs to
recover their straight road towards the sky
being obliged to grow sideways m
Sr eLly “years, is the efiort that -U ma^y
influence their future destiny, and determine
Sey are to be crabbed, forky pines, stak-
ing from that rock of Sestri, whose clefrs
nourish them, ivith bared f tmng of
angry arms towards the sea ; or ^hey
to be goodly and solemn pines, with trunks
like piUars of temples, and the purple burn
ing o^ their branches sheathed m deep glob
of cloudy green. Those, then, axe
fateful lines ; see that you give that spring
and resilience, whatever you leave ungiven ;
trees in general, and bushes, large
or small, you will notice that, though the
“ou.hs spring irregularly and at various
angles, thL is a tendency in aU ^ ^oop tess
and less as they near the top of the tree.
This structure, typified in the simplest pos-
sible terms at c. Fig. I7. is common to all
trees that' I know of, and it gives them a
certain plumy character, and aspect of uni y
S the Larfr of their branches, which are
essential to their beauty. The stem does
not merely send ofi a wild branch here and
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 91
there to take its own way, but all the branches
share in one great fountain-like impulse ;
each has a curve and a path to take which
fills a definite place, and each terminates all
its minor branches at its outer extremity,
so as to form a great outer curve, whose
character and proportion are peculiar for
each species ; that is to say, the general
type or idea of a tree is not as a. Fig. 17.
but as 6, in which, observe, the boughs all
carry their minor divisions right out to the
bounding curve ; not but that smaller
branches, by thousands, terminate in the
heart of the tree, but the idea and main
purpose in every branch are to carry all
its child branches well out to the air and
light, and let each of them, however small,
take its part in filling the united flow of the
bounding curve, so that the type of each
separate bough is again not a, but 6, Fig.
18 ; approximating, that is to say, so far
to the structure of a plant of broccoli as to
throw the great mass of spray and leafage
out to a rounded surface ; therefore beware
of getting into a careless habit of drawing
boughs with successive sweeps of the pen
or brush, one hanging to the other, as in
Fig. 19. If you look at the tree-boughs in
any painting of Wilson’s you will see this
structure, and nearly every other that is to
be avoided, in their intensest types. You
will also notice that Wilson never conceives
a tree as a round mass, but flat, as if it had
92 THE EI^EMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
been pressed and dried. Most people in
drawing pines seem to fancy, in the same
way, that the boughs come out only on two
sides of the trunk, instead of all round it :
always, therefore, take more pains in trying
to draw the boughs of trees that grow to
wards you than those that go ofi to the
sides ; anybody can draw the latter, but
the foreshortened ones are not so easy. It I
wiU help you in drawing them to observe
that in most trees the ramification of each
branch, though not of the tree itself, is more
or less flattened, and approximates, in its
position, to the look of a hand held out to
receive something, or shelter something.
If you take a looking-glass and hold your
hand before it shghtly hollowed, with the
palm upwards, and the fingers open, as if
you were going to support the base of some
great bowl larger than you could easily
hold, and sketch your hand as you see it in
the glass with the points of the fingers to-
wards you, it will materially help you in
understanding the way trees generally hold
out their hands ; and if then you will turn
yours with its palm downwards, as if you
were going to try to hide something, but
with the fingers expanded, you will get a
good typ*e of the action of the lower boughs
in cedars and such other spreading trees.
Figure 20 will give you a good idea
of the simplest way in which these and
other such facts can be rapidly expressed ;
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 93
if you copy it carefully, you will be sur-
prised to find how the touches all group to-
gether, in expressing the plumy toss of the
tree branches, and the springing of the
bushes out of the bank, and the undulation
of the ground : note the careful drawing of
the footsteps made by the climbers of the
little mound on the left It is facsimiled
from an etching of Turner's, and is as good
an example as you can have of the use of
pure and firm lines ; it will also show you
how the particular action in foliage, or any-
thing else to which you wish to direct atten-
tion, may be intensified by the adjuncts.
The tall and upright trees are made to look
more tall and upright still, because their
line is continued below by the figure of the
farmer with his stick ; and the rounded
bushes on the bank are made to look more
rounded because their line is continued in
one broad sweep by the black dog and the
boy chmbing the wall. These figures are
placed entirely with this object, as we shall
see more fully hereafter when we come to
talk about composition ; but, if you please,
we will not talk about that yet awhile. What
I have been telling you about the beautiful
lines and action of foliage has nothing to
do with composition, but only ’^ith fact,
and the brief and expressive representation
of fact. But there will be no harm in your
looking forward, if you like to do so, to the
i It is meant, I believe, for * Salt Hill ’.
94 the elements OF DRAWING [ii
account, in Letter III of the ^ Law of Radi-
ation and reading what is said there about
tree growth : indeed it would in some re-
spects have been better to have said it here
than there, only it would have broken up
the account of the principles of composition
■somewhat awkwardly.
Now, although the lines indicative of
action are not always quite so manifest in
other things as in trees, a little attention
wall soon enable you to see that there are
such lines in everything. In an old house
roof, a bad observer and bad draughtsman
will only see and draw the spotty irregu-
larity of tiles or slates all over ; but a good
draughtsman will see all the bends of the
under timbers, where they are weakest and
the weight is telling on them most, and the
tracks of the run of the water in time of
rain, where it runs off fastest, and where it
lies long and feeds the moss ; and he will
be careful, however few slates he draws, to
mark the way they bend together towards
those hoUows (which have the future fate
of the roof in them), and crowd graduall}^
together at the top of the gable, partly
diminishing in perspective, partly, perhaps,
diminished on purpose (they are so in most
English Old houses) by the slate-layer. So
in ground, there is always the direction of
the run of the water to be noticed, which
rounds the earth and cuts it into hollows ;
and, generally, in any bank or height worth
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 95
dramng, a trace of bedded or other internal
structure besides. .The figure 20 will give
you some idea of the way in which such
facts may be expressed by a few lines. Do
you not feel the depression in the ground all
down the hill where the footsteps are, and
how the people always turn to the left at
the top, losing breath a httle, and then how
the water runs down in that other hollow
towards the valley, behind the roots of the
trees ?
Now, I want you in your first sketches
from nature to aim exclusively at under-
standing and representing these vital facts
of form ; using the pen — not now the steel,
but the quill — firmly and steadily, never
scrawling with it, but saying to yourself
before you lay on a single touch — ' that leaf
is the main one, that bough is the guiding
one, and this touch, so long, so broad, means
that part of it ’ — point or side or knot, as
the case may be. Resolve always, as you
# look at the thing, what you will take, and
what miss of it, and never let your hand run
away with you, or get into any habit or
method of touch. If you want a continuous
line, your hand should pass calmly from
one end of it to the other without a tremor ;
if you want a shaking and brokemline, your
hand should shake, or break off, as easily
as a musician’s finger shakes or stops on a
note : only remember this, that there is no
general way of doing any thing; no recipe
96 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
can be given you for so much as the drawing
of a cluster of grass. The grass may be
ragged and stiff, or tender and flowing ;
sunburnt and sheep-bitten, or rank and
languid ; fresh or dry ; lustrous or dull :
look at it, and try to draw as it is, and don't
think how somebody ‘ told you to do grass
So a stone may be round or angular, polished
or rough, cracked all over like an iU-glazed
teacup, or as united and broad as the breast
of Hercules. It may be as flaky as a wafer,
as powdery as a field puff-ball ; it may be
knotted like a ship’s hawser, or kneaded
like hammered iron, or knit like a Damascus
sabre, or fused like a glass bottle, or crys-
tallized like hoar-frost, or veined like a
forest leaf : look at it, and don’t try to re-
member how anybody told you to 'do a
stone ’.
As soon as you find that your hand obeys
you thoroughly, and that you can render
any form with a firmness and truth approach-
ing that of Turner’s or Durer’s work you
must add a simple but equally careful light
and shade to your pen drawing, so as to
make each study as complete as possible :
for which you must prepare yourself thus.
Get, if you have the means, a good impres-
sion of onefplate of Turner’s Liter Studionim ;
3. I do not mean that you can approach Turner
or Diirer in their strength, that is to say, in their
imagination or power of design. But you may
approach them, by perseverance, in truth of manner.
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 97
if possible, one of the subjects named in the
note below If 3^ou cannot obtain, or even
1 The following are the most desirable plates :
Grande Chartreuse
.-Esacus and Hespme
Cephalus and Procris
Source of Arveron
Ben Arthur
Watermill
Hindhead HHl
Hedging and Ditching
Dumblane Abbey
Morpeth
Calais Pier
Pembury Mill
Little Devil’s Bridge
River Wye {not Wye and
Severn)
Holy Island
Clyde
Lauffenbourg
Blair Athol
Alps from Grenoble
Raglan (Subject wntb
quiet brook, trees, and
castle on the right)
If you cannot get one of these, any of the others
will be serviceable, except only the tv/elve following,
which are quite useless :
1. Scene in Italy, with goats on a walled road,
and trees above.
2. Interior of church.
3. Scene with bridge, and trees above ; figures
on left, one playing a pipe.
4. Scene with figure playing on tambourine.
5. Scene on Thames with high trees, and a square
tower of a church seen through them.
6. Fifth Plague of Eg>q)t.
7. Tenth Plague of Egypt.
8. Rivaulx Abbey.
9. Wye and Severn.
10. Scene with castle in centre, cows under trees
on the left.
11. MarteUo Towers.
12. Calm.
It is very unlikely that you should meet with one
of the original etchings ; if you should, it wili be a
drawing-master in itself alone, for it is not only
equivalent to a pen-and-ink drawing "'by Turner,
but to a very careful one : only observe, the Source
of Arveron, Raglan, and Dumblane were not
etched by Turner ; and the etchings of those three
are not good for separate study, though it is deeply
interesting to see how Turner, apparently provoked
at the failure of the beginnings in the Arveron and
H
.98 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
borrow for a little while, any of these engrav-
ings, you must use a photograph instead
(how i will tell you presently) ; but, if you
^can get the Turner, it will be best. You
Avill see that it is composed of a firm etching
in line, with mezzotint shadow laid over it.
You must first copy the etched part of it
accurately ; to which end put the print
against the window, and trace slowly with
the greatest care every black line ; retrace
this on smooth drawing-paper ; and, finaUy,
go over the whole with your pen, looking
at the original plate always, so that if you
err at all, it may be on the right side, not
maldng a line which is too curved or too
straight already in the tracing, more curved
or more straight, as you go over it. And
Rafian, took the plates up himself, and either con-
auSred or brought into use the bad etching by his
marvellous engraving. The Dumblane was, however
well etched by Mr Lupton, and beautifully engraved
bv him The finest Turner etching is of an aqueduct
with a stork standing in a mountain stream, not in
the published series ; and next to ^ nn-
nnhlished etchings of the Via Mala and Crowhurst.
burner stems^S^ been so fond of these plates
that he kept retouching and finishing th^, and
never made up his mind to let them go. The Via
Mala is certainly, in the state m which Tmrner left
it the finest of the whole series : its etching is, as
I ’said, the best after that of the aqueduct. Figure
io is pari of another fine unpublished etchmg,
" Windsor, from Salt Hill’. piAlished
etchings the finest are the Ben Arthur iFsacus,
Cophalus, and Stone Pines, with the Girl washmg
n t a Cistern ; the three latter are the more gener-
ally instructive. Hindhead Hill, Isis, Jason, and
. Morpeth, are also very desirable.
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 99
in doing this, never work after you are tired,
nor to ‘ get the thing done for if it is badly
done, it will be of no use to you. The true
zeal and patience of a quarter of an hour
are better than the sulky and inattentive
labour of a whole day. If you have not
made the touches right at the first going
over with the pen, retouch them delicately,
with little ink in your pen, thickening or
reinforcing them as they need : you cannot
give too much care to the facsimile. Then
keep this etched outline by you, in order to
study at 3^our ease the way in which Turner
uses his line as preparatory for the subse-
quent shadow ^ ; it is only in getting the
two separate that you will be able to reason
on this. Next, copy once more, though for
the fourth time, any part of this etching
which you like, and put on the light and
shade with the brush, and any brown colour
that matches that of the plate ^ ; working
it with the point of the brush as delicately
as if you were drawing with pencil, and
dotting and cross-hatching as lightly as you
can touch the paper, till you get the gra-
dations of Turner’s engraving. In this exer-
cise, as in the former one, a quarter of an
inch worked to close resemblance of the
copy is worth more than the whole subject
^ You will find more notice of this point in the
account of Harding’s tree-drawing, a little farther on.
2 xiie impressions vary so much in colour that no
^ brown can be specified.
j
lOO THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
carelessly done. Not that in drawing after-
wards from nature, you are to be obliged
to finish every gradation in this wa^r, but
that, once having fully accomplished the
drawing something rightly, you will thence-
forward feel and aim at a higher perfection
than you could othenvise have conceived,
and the brush will obey you, and bring out
quickly and clearly the loveliest results, with
a submissiveness which it vrould have wholly
refused if you had not put it to severest
work. Nothing is more strange in art than
the way that chance and materials seem to
favour you, when once you have thoroughly
conquered them. Make yourself quite inde-
pendent of chance, get 3^our result in spite
of it, and from that day forward all things
will somehow fall as 3^ou would have them.
Show the camel’s-hair, and the colour in it,
that no bending nor blotting are of any use
to escape 3^our vnll ; that the touch and the
shade shall finally be right, if it costs 3^ou a
year's toil ; and from that hour of corrective
conviction, said cameFs-hair will bend itself
to all your wishes, and no blot will dare
to transgress its appointed border. If
you cannot obtain a print from the Liber
Stiidiomfn, get a photograph ^ of some
general landscape subject, with high hills
and a village, or picturesque town, in the
middle distance, and some calm water of
1 You had better get such a photograph, even
though you have a Liber print as well.
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE loi
varied character (a stream with stones in it,
if possible), and copy any part of it you like
in this same brown colour, working, as I
have just directed you to do from the Liber ,
a great deal with the point of the brush.
You are under a twofold disadvantage here,
however ; first, there are portions in every
photograph too dehcateiy done for you at
present to be at all able to copy ; and
secondly, there are portions always more
obscure or dark than there would be in the
real scene, and involved in a mystery which
you will not be able, as yet, to decipher.
Both these characters will be advantageous
to you for future study, after you have gained
experience, but they are a little against you
in early attempts at tinting ; still you must
fight through the difficulty, and get the
power of producing delicate gradations with
brown or grey, like those of the photograph.
Now observe ,* the perfection of work
would be tinted shadow, like photography,
without any obscurity or exaggerated dark-
ness ; and as long as your effect depends in
anywise on visible lines, your art is not per-
fect, though it may be first-rate of its kind.
But to get complete results in tints merely
requires both long time and consummate
skill ; and you will find that a feV well-put
pen lines, with a tint dashed over or under
them, get more expression of facts than you
could reach in any other way, by the same
expenditure of time. The use of the Liber
102 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
Stiidiomm print to you is chiefly as an ex-
ample of the simplest shorthand of this
kind, a shorthand which is yet capable of
dealing with the most subtle natural effects ;
for the firm etching gets at the expression of
complicated details, as leaves, masonry,
textures of ground, etc., while the overlaid
tint enables you to express the most tender
distances of sky, and forms of playing light,
mist, or cloud. Most of the best drawings
by the old masters are executed on this
principle, the touches of the pen being useful
also to give a look of transparency to shadows
which could not otherwise be attained but
by great finish of tinting ; and if you
have access to any ordinarily good public
gallery, or can make friends of any print-
sellers who have folios either of old drawings,
or facsimiles of them, you will not be at a
loss to find some example of the unity of pen
with tinting. Multitudes of photographs
also are now taken from the best drawings
by the old masters, and I hope that our
Mechanics’ Institutes, and other societies
organized with a view to public instruction,
will not fail to possess themselves of examples
of these, and to make them accessible to
students of drawing in the vicinity ; a single
print from Turner’s Liher, to show the unison
of tint with pen etching, and the ‘ St
Catherine lately photographed by Thurston
Thompson from Raphael’s drawing in the
Louvre, to show the unity of the soft tinting
Ill SKETCHING FROM NATURE loj
of the stump with chalk, would be ail that
is necessary, and would, I believe, be in
many cases more serviceable than a larger
collection, and certainly than a whole gallery
of second-rate prints. Two such examples
are peculiarly desirable, because all other
modes of drawing, with pen separately, or’
chalk separately, or colour separately, may
be seen by the poorest student in any cheap
illustrated book, or in shop windows. But
this unity of tinting with line he cannot
generally see but by some special inquiiy^
and in some out of the way places he could
not find a single example of it. Supposing:
that ti’iis should be so in your own case, and
that you cannot meet with any example of
this kind, try to make the matter out aloncp
thus :
Take a small and simple photograph ;
allow yourself half an hour to express its
subjects with the pen only, using some per-
manent liquid colour instead of ink, outlin-
ing its buildings or trees firmly, and laying
in the deeper shadows, as you have been
accustomed to do in your bolder pen draw-
ings ; then, when this etching is dry, take
your sepia or grey, and tint it over, getting
now the finer gradations of the photograph ;
and, finally, taking the higher Ughts with
penknife or blotting-paper. You will soon
find what can be done in this way ; and by
a series of experiments you may ascertain
for yourself how far the pen may be made
104 ELEJ^IENTS OF DRAWING [ii
serviceable to reinforce shadows, mark
characters of texture, outline unintelligible
masses, and so on. The more time you
have, the more delicate you may make the
pen drawing, blending it with the tint ; the
less you have, the more distinct you must
keep the two. Practise in this way from
one photograph, allowing yourself some-
times only a quarter of an hour for the whole
thing, sometimes an hour, sometimes two
or three hours ; in each case drawing the
whole subject in full depth of light and
shade, but with such degree of finish in the
parts as is possible in the given time. And
this exercise, observe, you will do well to
repeat frequently, whether you can get
prints and drawings as well as photographs,
or not.
And now at last, when you can copy a
piece of Liher SUMomm^ or its photographic
substitute, faithfully, you have the complete
means in your power of working from nature
on all subjects that interest you, which you
should do in four different ways.
First. When you have full time, and
your subject is one that will stay quiet for
you, make perfect light and shade studies,
or as nearly perfect as you can, with grey or
brown colGur of any kind, reinforced and
defined with the pen.
Secondly. When your time is short, or
the subject is so rich in detail that you feel
you cannot complete it intelligibly in light
II] SKETCHING FROM MATURE 105
and shade, make a hasty study of the effect,
and give the rest of the time to a Diireresque
expression of the details. If the subject
seems to you interesting, and there are
points about it which you cannot under-
stand, try to get five spare minutes to go
close up to it, and make a nearer memor-
andum ; not that you are ever to bring the
details of this nearer sketch into the farther
one, but that you may thus perfect your
experience of the aspect of things, and know
that such and such a look of a tower or cot-
tage at five hundred yards off means that
sort of tower or cottage near ; while, also,
this nearer sketch will be useful to prevent
any future misinterpretation of your own
work. If you have time, however far your
light and shade study in the distance may
have been carried, it is always well, for these
reasons, to make also your Diireresque and
your near memoranda ; for if your light and
shade drawing be good, much of the inter-
esting detail must be lost in it, or disguised.
Your hasty study of effect may be made
most easily and quickly with a soft pencil
dashed over %vhen done with one tolerably
deep tone of grey, which will fix the pencil.
While this fixing colour is wet, take out the
higher lights with the dry brush j’^and, when
it is quite dry, scratch out the highest lights
with the penknife. Five minutes, carefully
applied, will do much by these means. Of
course the paper is to be white. I do not
io6 THE ELEi^IENTS OF DRAWING [ii
like studies on grey paper so well ; for \^ou
can get more gradation by the taking off
your wet tint, and laying it on cunningly a
little darker here and there, than you can
with body-colour white, unless you are con-
summately sldlfuL There is no objection
to your making your Dureresque memoranda
on grey or yellow paper, and touching or
relieving them with white ; only, do not de-
pend much on your white touches, nor make
the sketch for their sake.
Thirdly. When you have neither time
for careful study not for Dureresque detail,
sketch the outline with pencil, then dash in
the shadows with the brush boldl^q trying
to do as much as you possibly can at once,
and to get a habit of expedition and decision ;
laying more colour again and again into the
tints as they dry, using every expedient
which your practice has suggested to you
of carrying out your chiaroscuro in the
manageable and moist material, taking the
colour off here with the dry brush, scratcliing
out lights in it there with the wooden handle
of the brush, rubbing it in with your fingers,
drying it off with your sponge, etc. Then
when the colour is in, take your pen and
mark the outline characters vigorously,
in the mafmer of the Liher Studiorum. This
kind of study is very convenient for carrying
away pieces of effect which depend not so
much on refinement as on complexity, strange
shapes of involved shadows, sudden effects
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 107
of sky, etc. ; and it is most useful as a safe-
guard against any too servile or slow habits
which the minute copying may induce in
you ; for although the endeavour to obtain
velocity merely for velocit3^’s sake, and dash
for display’s sake, is as baneful as it is despic-
able ; there are a velocity and a dash which
not only are compatible with perfect draw-
ing, but obtain certain results which cannot
be had otherwise. And it is perfectly safe
for you to study occasionally for speed and
decision, while your continual course of prac-
tice is such as to ensure your retaining
an accurate judgment and a tender touch.
Speed, under such circumstances, is rather
fatiguing than tempting ; and you will find
yourself always beguiled rather into elabor-
ation than negligence.
Fourthly. You will find it of great use,
whatever kind of landscape scenery you are-
passing through, to get into the habit of
making memoranda of the shapes of shadows.
You will find that many objects of no essential
interest in themselves, and neither deserv-
ing a finished study, nor a Diireresque one,,
ma}^ yet become of singular value in con-
sequence of the fantastic shapes of their
shadows ; for it happens often, in distant
effect, that the shadow is by much a more-
important element than the substance.
Thus, in the Alpine bridge. Fig. 21, seen
within a few yards of it, as in the figure, the
arrangement of timbers to which the shadows.
loS THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
are owing is perceptible ; but at half a mile's
distance, in bright sunlight, the timbers
would not be seen ; and a good painter’s
expression of the bridge would be merely
the large spot, and the crossed bars, of pure
grey ; wholly without indication of their
cause, as in Fig. 22, a ; and if we saw it at
still greater distances, it would appear, as
in Fig. 22, h and c, diminishing at last to a
.strange, unintelligible, spider-like spot of
grey on the light hill-side. A perfectly great
painter, throughout bis distances, contin-
ually reduces his objects to these shadow
abstracts ; and the singular, and to many
persons unaccountable, effect of the confused
touches in Turner’s distances, is owing chiefly
to this thorough accuracy and intense mean-
ing of the shadow abstracts.
Studies of this kind are easily made when
you are in haste, with an F or HB pencil:
it requires some hardness of the point to
ensure your drawing delicately enough when
the forms of the shadows are very subtle ;
they are sure to be so somewhere, and are
generally so everywhere. The pencil is
indeed a very precious instrument after you
are master of the pen and brush, for the
pencil, cunningly used, is both, and will
draw a line with the precision of the one and
the gradation of the other ; nevertheless,
it is so unsatisfactory to see the sharp touches,
on which the best of the detail depends,
getting gradually deadened by time, or to
II] SKETCHING FROM l^ATURE lo^
find the places where force was wanted look
shiny, and like a fire-grate, that I should
recommend rather the steady use of the pen,
or brush, and colour, whenever time admits
of it ; keeping only a small memorandum-
book in the breast-pocket, with its well-cut,
sheathed pencil, ready for notes on passing
opportunities : but never being without
this.
Thus much, then, respecting the manner
in which you are at first to draw from nature.
But it may perhaps be serviceable to you, if I
also note one or two points respecting your
choice of subjects for study, and the best
special methods of treating some of them ;
for one of by no means the least difficulties
which you have at first to encounter is a
peculiar instinct, common, as far as I have
noticed, to all beginners, to fix on exactly
the most unmanageable feature in the
given scene. There are many things in
every landscape which can be dra’^vn, if at all,
only by the most accomplished artists ; and
I have noticed that it is nearly always these
which a beginner will dash at ; or, if not
these, it will be something which, though
pleasing to him in itself, is unfit for a picture,
and in which, when he has drawn it, he will
have little pleasure. As some slight protec-
tion against this evil genius of beginners, the
following general warnings may be useful :
I. Do not draw things that you love, on
account of their associations ,• or at least.
no THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
do not draw them because you love them ;
but merely when you cannot get an^rthing
else to draw. If you try to draw places that
you love, you are sure to be always entangled
.amongst neat brick walls, iron railings,
gravel walks, greenhouses, and quickset
hedges ; besides that you will be continually
led into some endeavour to make your
drawing pretty, or complete, which will be
fatal to your progress. You need never
hope to get on, if 3^ou are the least anxious
that the drawing you are actually at work
upon should look nice when it is done. All
you have to care about is to make it right,
and to learn as much in doing it as possible.
So then, though when you are sitting in
your friend’s parlour, or in your own, and
have nothing else to do, you may draw any-
thing that is there, for practice ; even the
hre-irons or the pattern on the carpet :
be sure that it is for practice, and not be-
cause it is a beloved carpet, nor a friendly
poker and tongs, nor because you wish to
please your friend by drawing her room.
Also, never make presents of your draw-
ings. Of course I am addressing you as a
beginner — a time may come when your work
will be precious to everybody ; but be reso-
lute not to give it away till you know that
it is worth something (as soon as it is worth
anything you will know that it is so). If
any one asks you for a present of a drawing,
send them a couple of cakes of colour and a
II] SKETCHING FROM MATURE in
piece of Bristol board : those materials are,
for the present, of more value in that form
than if you had spread the one over the other.
The main reason for this rule is, however,
that its observance will much protect you
from the great danger of trying to make
your drawings pretty.
2. Never, by choice, draw anything
polished ; especially if complicated in form.
Avoid all brass rods and curtain ornaments,
chandeliers, plate, glass, and fine steel. A
shining knob of a piece of furniture does
not matter if it comes in your way ; but do
not fret yourself if it will not look right, and
choose only things that do not shine.
3. Avoid all very neat tilings. They are
exceedingly difficult to draw, and very ugly
when drawn. Choose rough, worn, and
clumsy-looking things as much as possible ;
for instance, you cannot have a more difficult
or profitless study than a newly painted
Thames wherry, nor a better study than
an old empty coal-barge, lying ashore at
low tide : in general, everything that you
think very ugly will be good for you to draw.
4. Avoid, as much as possible, studies in
which one thing is seen through another.
You will constantly find a thin tree standing
before your chosen cottage, or b^ween you
and the turn of the river ; its near branches
all entangled with the distance. It is in-
tensely difficult to represent this ; and
though, when the tree is there, you must
1 12 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [n
not imaginarily cut it dow, but do it as well
as you can, yet always look for subjects that
fall into definite masses, not into netwoik ;
that is, rather for a cottage with a dark
tree beside it, than for one mth a thin tree
in front of it ; rather for a mass of wood,
soft, blue, and rounded, than for a ragged
copse, or confusion of intricate stems.
5. Avoid, as far as possible, ^ country
divided by hedges. Perhaps nothing in the
whole compass of landscape is so utterly
unpicturesqiie and unmanageable as the
ordinar>^ English patchwork of field and
hedge, with trees dotted over it in independ-
dent spots, gnawed straight at the cattle
line. , _ - -
Still, do not be discouraged if you nnd
you have chosen ill, and that the subject,
overmasters you. It is much better that
it should, than that you should think you
had entirely mastered it. But at first, and
even for some time, you must be prepared
for very discomfortable failure ; which,
nevertheless, ivill not be without some whole-
some result.
As, however, I have told you what most
definitely to avoid, I may, perhaps, help
you a little by saying what to seek. In
general, all Banks are beautiful things, and
wiU reward work better than large land-
scapes. If you live in a lowland country,
you ’must look for places where the ground
is broken to the river’s edges, with decayed
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 113
posts, or roots of trees ; or, if by great good
luck there should be such things within your
reach, for remnants of stone quays or steps,
mossy mill-dams, etc. Nearly every other
mile of road in chalk country will present
beautiful bits of broken bank at its sides ;
better in form and colour than high chalk
cliffs. In woods, one or two trunks, with
the flowery ground below, are at once the
richest and easiest kind of study : a not very
thick trunk, say nine inches or a foot in
diameter, with ivy running up it sparingly,
is an easy, and always a rew'arding subject.
Large nests of buildings in the middle dis-
tance are always beautiful, when drawn
carefully, provided they are not modern
rows of pattern cottages, or villas vdth
Ionic and Doric porticos. Any old English
village, or cluster of farm-houses, drawn
with all its ins and outs, and haystacks, and
palings, is sure to be lovely ; much more a
French one. French landscape is general!}' as
much superior to English as Swiss landscape
is to French ; in some respects, the French is
incomparable. Such scenes as that avenue
on the Seine, which I have recommended
you to buy the engraving of, admit no
rivalship in their expression of graceful rus-
ticity and cheerful peace, and in tne beauty
of component lines.
In drawing villages, take great pains with
the gardens ; a rustic garden is in every
wa}/ beautiful. If you have time, draw all
1 14 THE ELE>]VIENTS OF DRA WING [n
the rows of cabbages, and hollyhocks, and
broken fences, and wondering eglantines,
and bossy roses; you cannot have better
practice, nor be kept by anj'thing in purer
thoughts. ,
Make intimate friends of all tlie brooks in
your neighbourhood, and study them ripple
by ripple.
Village churches in England are not often
good subjects ; there is a peculiar meanness
about most of them, and awkwardness of
line. Old manor-houses are often pretty.
Ruins are usually, with us, too prim, and
cathedrals too orderly. I do not think there
is a single cathedral in England from which
it is possible to obtain one subject for an
impressive drawing. There is always some
discordant civility, or jarring vergerism about
them.
If you live in a mountain or hill country,
your only danger is redundance of subject.
Be resolved, in the first place, to draw a
piece of rounded rock, with its variegated
lichens, quite rightly, getting its complete
roundings, and all the patterns of the lichen
in true local colour. Till you can do this,
it is of no use your thinking of sketching
among hills ; but when once you have done
this, the "forms of distant hills will be com-
paratively easy.
When you have practised for a little time
from such of these subjects as may be
accessible to you, you will certainly find
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 11$
difficulties arising which will make you wish
more than ever for a master’s help : these
difficulties will vary according to the char-
acter of your own mind (one question occur-
ring to one person, and one to another), so
that it is impossible to anticipate them all ;
and it would make this too large a book if I
answered all that I can anticipate ; you must
be content to work on, in good hope that
Nature will, in her own time, interpret to
you much for herself ; that farther experi-
ence on your own part will make some diffi-
culties disappear ; and that others will be
removed by the occasional observation of such
artists’ work as may come in your way.
Nevertheless, I will not close this letter with-
out a few general remarks, such as may be
useful to you after you are somewhat ad-
vanced in power ; and these remarks may, I
think, be conveniently arranged under three
heads, having reference to the drawing of
vegetation, water, and skies.
And, first, of vegetation. You may think,
perhaps, we have said enough about trees
already ; yet if you have done as you were
bid, and tried to draw them frequently
enough, and carefully enough, you will be
ready by this time to hear a little more of
them. You will also recollect that we left
our question, respecting the mode of ex-
pressing intricacy of leafage, partly unsettled
in the first letter. I left it so because I
wanted you to learn the real structure of
Ii6 THE ELEhlENTS OF DRAWING [ir
leaves, by drawing them for yourself, before
I troubled you with the most subtle consider-
ations as to method in drawing them. And
by this time, I imagine, you must have found
out two principal things, universal facts,
about leaves ; namely, that they always,
in the main tendencies of their lines, indicate
a beautiful divergence of growth, according
to the law of radiation, already referred to ^ ;
and the second, that this divergence is never
formal, but carried out with endless variety
of individual line. I must now press both
these facts on your attention a little farther.
You may perhaps have been surprised that
I have not yet spoken of the works of J. D.
Harding, especially if you happen to have
met with the passages referring to them
in Modern Painters^ in which they are highly
praised. They are deservedly praised, for
they are the only works by a modem draughts-
man which express in any wise the energy of
trees, and the laws of growth, of which we
have been speaking. There are no litho-
graphic sketches which, for truth of general
character, obtained with little cost of time,
at all rival Harding’s. Calame, Robert, and
the other lithographic landscape sketchers
are altogether inferior in power, though
sometimes a little deeper in meaning. But
you must not take even Harding for a model,
though you may use his works for occasional
reference ; and if you can afford to buy his
1 See the closing letter in this volume.
n] SKETCHING FROM MATURE 117
Lessons on Trees ^ , it will be serviceable to
you in various ways, and will at present help
me to explain the point under consideration.
And it is well that I should illustrate this
point by reference to Harding’s works,
because their great influence on young
students renders it desirable that their real
character should be thoroughly understood.
You will find, first, in the titlepage of the
Lessons on Trees, a pretty woodcut, in which
the tree stems are drawn with great truth,
and in a very interesting arrangement of
lines. Plate i is not quite worthy of Mr
Harding, tending too much to make his pupil,
at starting, think everything depends on
black dots ; still, the main lines are good,
and very characteristic of tree growth. Then,
in Plate 2, we come to the point at issue.
The first examples in that plate are given to
the pupil that he may practise from them
till his hand gets into the habit of arranging
lines freely in a similar manner ; and they
are stated by Mr Harding to be universal in
application ; ‘ aU outlines expressive of
foliage he says, ' are but modifications of
them’. They consist of groups of lines,
more or less resembhng our Fig. 23 on the
next plate ; and the characters especially
insisted upon are, that they ' tehS at their
1 Bogue, Fleet Street. If you are not acquamted
with Harding’s works (an unlikely supposition, con-
sidering their popularity), and cannot meet with the
one in question, the diagrams given here will enable
you to understand all that is needful for our purposes.
ii8 THE elements OF DRAWING [ii
inner ends to a common centre ' ; that
‘ their ends terminate in [are enclosed by]
ovoid curves ’ ; and that ‘ the outer ends are
most emphatic
Now, as thus expressive of the great laws
of radiation and enclosure, the main prin-
ciple of this method of execution confirms,
in a very interesting way, our conclusions
respecting foliage composition. The reason
of the last rule, that the outer end of the
line is to be most emphatic, does not indeed
at first appear ; for the line at one end of a
natural leaf is not more emphatic than the
line at the other : but ultimately, in Hard-
ing’s method, this darker part of the touch
stands more or less for the shade at the
outer extremity of the leaf mass ; and, as
Harding uses these touches, they express
as much of tree character as any mere
habit of touch can express. But, un-
fortunately, there is another law of tree
growth, quite as fixed as the law of radiation,
which this and all other conventional modes
of execution wholly lose sight of. This
second law is, that the radiating tendency
shall be carried out only as a ruling spirit
in reconcilement with perpetual individual
caprice on the part of the separate leaves.
So that the moment a touch is monotonous,
it must be also false, the liberty of the leaf
individually being just as essential a truth
as its unity of growth with its companions
in the radiating group.
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 119
It does not matter how small or appar-
ently symmetrical the cluster may be, nor
how large or vague. You can hardly have
a more formal one than h in Fig. 9, nor a less
formal one than this shoot of Spanish chest-
nut, shedding its leaves. Fig. 24 ; but in
either of them, even the general reader, un-
practised in any of the previously recom-
mended exercises, must see that there are
wandering lines mixed with the radiating
ones, and radiating lines with the wild ones :
and if he takes the pen, and tries to copy
either of these examples, he vn\l find that
neither play of hand to left nor to right,
neither a free touch nor a firm touch, nor
any learnable or describable touch whatso-
ever, will enable him to produce, currently,
a resemblance of it ; but that he must either
draw it slowly, or give it up. And (which
makes the matter worse still) though gather-
ing the bough, and putting it close to you,
or seeing a piece of near foliage against the
sky, you may draw the entire outline of the
leaves, yet if the spray has light Upon it,
and is ever so little a way ofi, you will miss,
as we have seen, a point of a leaf here, and
an edge there ; some of the surfaces will be
confused by glitter, and some spotted with
shade ; and if you look carefully tiirough
this confusion for the edges or dark stems
which you really can see, and put only those
down, the result will be neither like Fig. 9
120 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
nor Fig. 24, but such an interrupted and
puzzling piece of work as Fig. 25
Now, it is in the perfect acknowledgment
and expression of these three laws that all
good drawing of landscape consists. There
is, fipt, the organic unity ; the law, whether
of radiation, or parallelism, or concurrent
action, which rules the masses of herbs and
trees, of rocks, and clouds, and waves ;
secondly, the individual hberty of the mem-
bers subjected to these laws of unity ; and,
lastly, the mystery under which the separate
•character of each is more or less concealed.
I say, first, there must be observance of
the ruling organic law. This is the first
distinction between good artists and bad
artists. Your common sketcher or bad
painter puts his leaves on the trees as if they
were moss tied to sticks ; he cannot see the
lines of action or growth ; he scatters the
•shapeless clouds over his sky, not perceiving
I' the sweeps of associated curves which the
real clouds are following as they fly ; and he
breaks his mountain side into rugged frag-
ments, wholly unconscious of the lines of
force with which the real rocks have risen,
or of the lines of couch in which they repose.
On the contrary, it is the main delight of
the great (Iraughtsman to trace these laws
of government ; and his tendency to error
II draw this figure (a young shoot of oak) in out-
line only, it being impossible to express the refine-
ments of shade in distant foliage in a woodcut.
1
n] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 121
is always in the exaggeration of their author-
ity rather than in its denial.
Secondly, I say, we have to show the indi-
vidual character and liberty of the separate
leaves, clouds, or rocks. And herein the
great masters separate themselves finally
from the inferior ones ; for if the men of
inferior genius ever express law at ail, it is
by the sacrifice of individuality. Thus,
Salvator Rosa has great perception of the
sweep of foliage and rolling of clouds, but
never draws a single leaflet or mist wreath
accurately. Similarly, Gainsborough, in his
landscape, has great feeling for masses of
form and harmony of colour ; but in the
detail gives notliing but meaningless touches ;
not even so much as the species of tree, much
less the variety of its leafage, being ever
discernible. Now, although both these
expressions of government and individuality
are essential to masterly work, the indi-
viduality is the more essential, and the more
difficult of attainment ; and, therefore,
that attainment separates the great masters
finally from the inferior ones. It is the more
essential, because, in these matters of beau-
tiful arrangement in visible things, the same
rules hold that hold in moral things. It is
a lamentable and unnatural thirfg to see a
number of men subject to no government,
actuated by no ruling principle, and associated
by no common affection : but it would be
a more lamentable thing still, were it pos-
122 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
sible, to see a number of men so oppressed
into assimilation as to have no more any
individual hope or character, no differences
in aim, no dissimilarities of passion, no
irregularities of judgment ; a society in
which no man could help another, since
none would be feebler than himself ; no man
admire another, since none would be stronger
than himself ; no man be grateful to an-
other, since by none he could be relieved ;
no man reverence another, since by none he
could be instructed ; a society in which every
soul would be as the syllable of a stammerer
instead of the word of a speaker ; in which
every man would walk as in a frightful
dream, seeing spectres of himself, in ever-
lasting multiplication, gliding helplessly
around him in a speechless darkness. There-
fore it is that perpetual difierence, play, and
change in groups of form are more essential
to them even than their being subdued by
some great gathering law : the law is need-
ful to them for their perfection and their
power, but the difference is needful to them
for their life.
And here it may be noted in passing, that,
if you enjoy the pursuit of analogies and
types, and have any ingenuity of judgment
in discerniiig them, you may always accur-
ately ascertain what are the noble characters
in a piece of painting by merely considering
what are the noble characters of man in his
association with his fellows. What grace
n] SKETCHING FROM 'NATURE 123
of manner and refinement of habit are in
society, grace of line and refinement of form
are in the association of visible objects.
What advantage or harm there may be in
sharpness, ruggedness, or quaintness in the
dealings or conversations of men ; precisely
that relative degree of advantage or harm
there is in them as elements of pictorial com-
position. W^hat power is in liberty or re
laxation to strengthen or relieve human
souls ; that power, precisely in the same
relative degree, play and laxity of line have
to strengthen or refresh the expression of a
picture. And what goodness or greatness
we can conceive to arise in companies of
men, from chastity of thought, regularity
of life, simplicity of custom, and balance of
authority ; precisely that kind of goodness
and greatness may be given to a picture by
the purity of its colour, the severity of its
forms, and the symmetry of its masses.
You need not be in the least afraid of
pushing these analogies too far. They can-
not be pushed too far ; they are so precise
and complete, that the farther you pursue
them, the clearer, the more certain, the
more useful you will find them. They will not
fail in you one particular, or in any direction
of inquiry. There is no moral vic^, no moral
virtue, which has not its precise prototype
in the art of painting ; so that you may at
your will illustrate the moral habit by the art
or the art by the moral habit. Affection and
124 the elements of drawing [n
discord, fretfulness and quietness, feebleness
and firmness, luxury and purity, pride and
modesty, and all other such habits, and
every conceivable modification and mingling
of them, may be illustrated, with mathe-
matical exactness, by conditions of line
and colour ; and not merely these definable
vices and virtues, but also every conceivable
shade of human character and passion, from
the righteous or unrighteous majesty of the
king to the innocent or faultful simplicity
of the shepherd boy.
The pursuit of this subject belongs properly,
however, to the investigation of the higher
branches of composition, matters which it
would be quite useless to treat of in this
book ; and I only allude to them here, in
order that you ma^^ understand how the ut-
most noblenesses of art are concerned in this
minute work, to which I have set you in your
beginning of it. For it is only by the closest
attention, and the most noble execution,
that it is possible to express these varieties
of individual character, on which all excel-
lence of portraiture depends, whether of
masses of mankind, or of groups of leaves.
Now you will be able to understand, among
other matters, wherein consists the excellence,
and wherein the shortcoming, of the tree-
drawing of Harding. It is excellent in so
far as it fondly observes, with more truth
than any other work of the kind, the great
laws of growth and action in trees : it fails
ii] SKETCHING FROM {MATURE 125
—and observe, not in a minor, but in the
principal point— because it cannot righ y
render any one individual detail or inciden
foliage. And in this it fails, not from mere
carelessness or incompletion, but of neces-
sity ; the true drawing of detail being o
evermore impossible to a hand w^c as
contracted a habit of execution. The noble
draughtsman draws a leaf, and stops, an
savs calmly— That leaf is of such and such
a character ; I will give him a friend wh
will entirely suit him : then he considers
what his friend ought to be, and having
determined, he draws his friend. ns pro
cess may be as quick as lightning when the
master is great-one of thesons of the giants ;
or it may be slow and timid : but the pro-
cess is always gone through ; no touch or
form is ever added to another by a gooa
painter without a mental determination an
affirmation But when the hand has go
into a habit, leaf No. i necepitates leaf
No. 2 ; you cannot stop, your hand is as a
horse with the bit in its teeth ; or rather is,
for the time, a machine, throwing op leaves
to order and pattern, aU alike. You nipt
stop that hand of yours, however painfully ,
make it understand that it is not to have its
own way any more, that it ^lall
more slip from one touch to another wi i
out orders ; otherwise it is not you who
are the master, but your fingers. You may
therefore study Harding’s drawing, and
126 THE ELEkENTS OF DRAWING [ii
take pleasure in it ^ ; and you may properly
admire the dexterity which applies the habit
of the hand so well, and produces results on
the whole so satisfactory : but you must
never copy it ; otherwise your progress will
be at once arrested. The utmost you can
ever hope to do would be a sketch in Hard-
ing’s manner, but of far inferior dexterity ;
for he has given his life’s toil to gain his
dexterity, and you, I suppose, have other
things to work at besides drawing. You
would also incapacitate yourself from ever
understanding what truly great work was,
or what Nature was ; but by the earnest
and complete study of facts, you will gradu-
ally come to understand the one and love
the other more and more, whether you can
draw well yourself or not.
I have yet to say a few words respecting
the third law above stated, that of mystery ;
the law, namely, that nothing is ever seen
perfectly, but only by fragments, and under
various conditions of obscurity This last
fact renders the visible objects of Nature
complete as a type of the human nature.
We have, observe, first, Subordination ;
1 His litiiograpMc sketches, those for instance in
the Park an^ the Forest, and his various lessons on
foliage, possSs greater merit than the more ambitious
engravings in his Principles and Practice of Art,
There are many useful remarks, however, dispersed
tiirough this latter work.
2 On this law you will do well, if you can get
access to it, to look at the fourth chapter of the
fourth volume of Modern Painters.
127
n] SKETCHING FROM NATURE
vsecondly, Individuality ; lastly, and this
not the least essential character. Incompre-
hensibility ; a perpetual lesson in every
serrated point and shining vein which escape
or deceive our sight among the forest leaves,
how little we may hope to discern clearly,
or judge justly, the rents and veins of the
human heart ; how much of all that is round
us, in men’s actions or spirits, which we at
first think we understand, a closer and more
loving watchfulness would show to be fuE
of mystery, never to be either fathomed or
withdrawn.
The expression of this final character in
landscape has never been completely reached
by any except Turner ; nor can you hope
to reach it at all until you have given much
time to the practice of art. Only tvj al-
ways when you are sketching any object,
with a view to completion in light and shade,
to draw only those parts of it which you
really see definitely ; preparing for the after
development of the forms by chiaroscuro.
It is this preparation by isolated touches for
a future arrangement of superimposed light
and shade which renders the etchings of the
Liber Studiorum so inestimable as examples,
and so peculiar. The character exists more
or less in them exactly in proportion to the
pains that Turner has taken. Thus the
iEsacus and Hesperie was wrought out
with the greatest possible care ; and the
principal branch on the near tree is etched
as in Fig. 26. The work looks at first like a
scholar’s instead of a master’s ; but when
the light and shade is added, every touch
falls into its place, and a perfect expression
of grace and complexity results. Nay, even
before the light and shade are added, you
ought to be able to see that these irregular
and broken lines, especially where the ex-
pression is given of the way the stem loses it-
self in the leaves, are more true than the mo-
notonous though graceful leaf-drawing which,
before Turner’s time, had been employed,
even by the best masters, in their distant
masses. Fig. 27 is sufficiently characteristic
of the manner of the old woodcuts after
Titian ; in which, you see, the leaves are
too much of one shape, like bunches of fruit ;
and the boughs too completely seen, besides
being somewhat soft and leather}^ in aspect,
owing to the want of angles in their outline.
By great men like Titian, this somewhat
conventional structure was only given in
haste to distant masses ; and their exquisite
delineation of the foreground kept their
conventionalism from degeneracy : but in
the drawings of the Caracci and other deri-
vative masters, the conventionalism prevails
everywhere, and sinks gradually into scrawled
work, like Fig. 28, about the worst which it
is possible to get into the habit of using,
though an ignorant person might perhaps
suppose it more ' free ' and therefore better
than Fig. 26. Note also, that in noble outline
128 TFJF ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 129
drawing, it does not follow that a bough is
wrongly drawn, because it looks contracted
unnaturally somewhere, as in Fig 26, just
above the foliage. Very often the muscular
action which is to be expressed by the line
runs into the middle of the branch, and the
actual outline of the branch at that place
may be dimly seen, or not at all ; and it is
then only by the future shade that its actual
shape, or the cause of its disappearance, will
be indicated.
One point more remains to be noted about
trees, and I have done. In the minds of
our ordinary water-colour artists a distant
tree seems only to be conceived as a fiat
green blot, grouping pleasantly with other
masses, and giving cool colour to the land-
scape, but differing no wise, in texture^ from
the blots of other shapes which these painters
use to express stones, or water, or figures.
But as soon as you have drawn trees carefully
a little while, you will be impressed, and
impressed more strongly the better you
draw them, with the idea of their softness of
surface. A distant tree is not a flat and
even piece of colour, but a more or less
globular mass of a downy or bloomy texture,
partly passing into a misty vagueness. I
find, practically, this lovely softness of far-
away trees the most difficult of aU characters
to reach, because it cannot be got by mere
scratching or roughening the surface, but
is always associated with such delicate
130 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
expressions of form and growth as are only
imitable by very careful drawing. The
penknife passed lightly over this careful
drawing will do a good deal ; but you must
accustom yourself, from the beginning, to
aim much at this softness in the lines of the
drawing itself, by crossing them delicately
and more or less effacing and confusing the
edges. You must invent, according to the
character of tree, various modes of execution
adapted to express its texture ; but always
keep this character of softness in your mind,
and in your scope of aim ; for in most land-
scape it is the intention of Nature that the
tenderness and transparent infinitude of her
foliage should be felt, even at the far dis-
tance, in the most distinct opposition to the
solid masses and flat surfaces of rocks or
buildings.
II. We were, in the second place, to con-
sider a little the modes of representing
water, of which important feature of land-
scape I have hardly said anything yet.
Water is expressed, in common drawings,
by conventional lines, whose horizontality
is supposed to convey the idea of its surface.
In paintings, white dashes or bars of light
are used: for the same purpose.
But these and ail other such expedients
are vain and absurd. A piece of calm water
always contains a picture in itself, an ex-
quisite reflection of the objects above it.
11] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 13 1
If you give the time necessary to draw these
reflections, disturbing them here and there
as you see the breeze or current disturb
them, you will get the effect of the water ;
but if you have not patience to draw the
reflections, no expedient will give you a
true effect. The picture in the pool needs
nearly as much delicate dramng as the
picture above the pool ; except only that
if there be the least motion on the water, the
horizontal lines of the images will be diffused
and broken, while the vertical ones will
remain decisive, and the oblique ones de-
cisive in proportion to their steepness.
K few close studies will soon teach you
this : the only thing you need to be told is
to watch carefully the lines of disturbance
on the surface, as when a bird swims across
it, or a fish rises, or the current plays round
a stone, reed, or other obstacle. Take the
greatest pains to get the curves of these lines
true ; the whole value of your careful draw-
ing of the reflections may be lost by your
admitting a single false curve of ripple from
a wild duck's breast. And (as in other
subjects) if you are dissatisfied with your
result, always try for more unity and deli-
ca.cY : if your reflections are only soft and
gradated enough, they are nearly* sure to
give you a pleasant effect^. When you are
taking pains, work the softer reflections,
where they are drawn out by motion in the
water, with touches as nearly horizontal as
1 See Note 3, in Appendix I.
132 THE ELiMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
may be ; but when you are in a hurry,
indicate the place and play of the images
with vertical hnes. The actual construction
of a calm elongated reflection is with, horizon-
tal lines ; but it is often impossible to draw
the descending shades delicately enough
with a horizontal touch ; and it is best
always when you are in a hurry, and some-
times when you are not, to use the vertical
touch. When the ripples are large, the
reflections become shaken, and must be
drawn with bold undulatory descending
lines.
I need not, I should think, tell you that
it is of the greatest possible importance to
draw the cuiwes of the shore rightly. Their
perspective is, if not more subtle, at least
more stringent than that of any other lines
in Nature. It will not be detected by the
general observer, if you miss the curve of a
branch, or the sweep of a cloud, or the per-
spective of a building ^ ; but every intelli-
gent spectator will feel the difference be-
tween a rightly drawn bend of shore or shingle,
and a false one. Absolutely right, in difficult
river perspectives seen from heights, I believe
no one but Turner ever has been yet ; and ob-
serve, there is no rule for them. To develop
the curve mathematically would require a
knowdedge of the exact quantity of water
1 The student may hardly at first believe that
the perspective of buildings is of little consequence ;
but he will find it so ultimately. See the remarks on
this point in the Preface.
11] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 133
in the river, the shape of its bed, and the
hardness of the rock or shore ; and even
with these data, the problem would be one
which no mathematician could solve but
approximatively. The instinct of the eye
can do it ; nothing else.
If, after a little study from Nature, you
get puzzled by the great differences be-
tween the aspect of the reflected image and
that of the object casting it ; and if you
wish to know the law of reflection, it is
simply this : Suppose all the objects above
the water actually reversed (not in appear-
ance, but in fact) beneath the water, and,
precisely the same in form and in relative
position, only all topsy-turvy. Then what-
ever you can see, from the place in which
you stand, of the sohd objects so reversed
under the water, you will see in the reflection
always in the true perspective of the solid
objects so reversed.
If you cannot quite understand this in
looking at water, take a mirror, lay it hori-
zontally on the table, put some books and
papers upon it, and draw them and their
reflections ; moving them about, and watch-
ing how their reflections alter, and cliiefly
how their reflected colours and shades differ
from their own colours and shades, by being
brought into other oppositions. This differ-
ence in chiaroscuro is a more important
character in water painting than mere differ-
ence in form.
134 the elements OF DRAWING [ii
When you are drawing shallow or muddy
water, you will see shadows on the bottom,
or on the surface, continually modifying the
reflections ; and in a clear mountain stream,
the most wonderful complications of effect
resulting from the shadows and reflections
of the stones in it, mingling with the aspect
of the stones themselves seen through the
water. Do not be frightened at the com-
plexity ; but, on the other hand, do not
hope to render it hastily. Look at it
well, making out everything that you see,
and distinguishing each component part of
the effect. There will be, first, the stones
seen through the water, distorted always
by refraction, so that if the general structure
of the stone shows straight parallel lines
above the water, you may be sure they will
be bent where they enter it ; then the reflec-
tion of the part of the stone above the water
crosses and interferes with the part that is
seen through it, so that you can hardly tell
which is which ; and wherever the reflection
is darkest, you will see through the water
best^, and vice versa. Then the real shadow
of the stone crosses both these images, and
where that shadow falls it makes the water
more reflective, and wfliere the sunshine
r
falls you will see more of the surface of the
water, and of any dust or motes that may
be floating on it : . but whether you are to
see, at the same spot, most of the bottom of
the water, or of the reflection of the objects
1 See Note 4 , ia Appendix L
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 135
above, depends on the position of the eye.
The more you look down into the water, the
better you see objects through it ; the
more you look along it, the eye being low,
the more you see the reflection of objects
above it. Hence the colour of a given space
of surface in a stream will entirely change
while you stand still in the same spot,
merely as you stoop or raise your head ;
and thus the colours with which water is
painted are an indication of the position of
the spectator, and connected inseparably
with the perspective of the shores. The
most beautiful of all results that I know in
mountain streams is when the water is
shallow, and the stones at the bottom are
rich reddish-orange and black, and the
water is seen at an angle which exactly
divides the visible colours between those
of the stones and that of the sky, and the
sky is of clear, full blue. The resulting
purple, obtained by the blending of the
blue and the orange-red, broken by the
play of innumerable gradations in the stones,
is indescribably lovely.
All this seems complicated enough al-
ready ; but if there be a strong colour in
the clear water itself, as of green or blue as
in the Swiss lakes, all these phen< 5 mena are
doubly involved ; for the darker reflections
now become of the colour of the water. The
reflection of a black gondola, for instance, at
Venice, is never black, but pure dark green.
c
136 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
And farther, the colour of the water itself
is of three kinds : one, seen on the surface,
is a kind of milky bloom ; the next is
seen where the waves let light through them,
at their edges ; and the third, shown as a
change of colour on the objects seen through
the water. Thus, the same wave that
makes a white object look of a clear blue,
when seen through it, will take a red or
violet-coloured bloom on its surface, and
will be made piii'e emerald green by trans-
mitted sunshine through its edges. With
all this, however, you are not much con-
cerned at present, but I tell it you partlj’^ as
a preparation for what we have afterwards
to say about colour, and partly that you
may approach lakes and streams with rever-
ence^? and study them as carefully as other
things, not hoping to express them by a
few horizontal dashes of white, or a few
tremulous blots Not but that much
may be done by tremulous blots, when you
know precisely what you mean by them,
as you mil see by many of the Turner
i See Note 3, in Appendix I.
^ It is a useful piece of study to dissolve some Prus-
sian blue in water, so as to make the liquid definitely
blue ; fin a large white basin with the solution,
and put anything you like to float on it, or lie in it ;
walnut shehs, bits of wood, leaves of flowers, etcl
Then study the effects of the reflections, and of the
stems of the flowers or submerged portions of the
floating objects, as they appear through the blue
liquid ; noting especially how, as you lower your
head and look along the surface, you see the reflec-
tions clearly; and how, as you raise your head,
you lose the reflections, and see the submerged
stems clearly.
0
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 137
sketches, which are now framed at the
National Gallery ; but you must have
painted water many and many a day — yes,
and all day long — before you can hope to
do anything like those.
III. Lastly. You may perhaps wonder
why, before passing to the clouds, I say
nothing special about ground But there
is too much to be said about that to admit
of my saying it here. You will find the
principal laws of its structure examined
at length in the fourth volume of Modern
Painters ; and if you can get that volume,
and copy carefully Plate 21, which I have
etched after Turner with great pains, it will
give you as much help as you need in the
linear expression of ground-surface. Strive
to get the retirement and succession of masses
in irregular ground : much may be done in
this way by careful w^atching of the per-
spective diminutions of its herbage, as well
as by contour ; and much also by shadows.
If you draw the shadows of leaves and tree
trunks on any undulating ground with entire
carefulness, you will be surprised to find
how much they explain of the form and
distance of the earth on which they fall.
Passing then to skies, note that there is
this great peculiarity about sky subject,
as distinguished from earth subject ; — that
i Respecting Architectural Drawing, see the notice
of the works of Prout in the jiVppendix.
138 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
the clouds, not being much liable to
man’s interference, are always beautifully
arranged. You cannot be sure of this in
any other features of landscape. The rock
on which the effect of a mountain scene es-
pecially depends is always precisely that which
the roadmaker blasts or the landlord quar-
ries ; and the spot of green which Nature
left with a special purpose of her dark forest
sides, and finished with her most delicate
grasses, is always that which the farmer
ploughs or builds upon. But the clouds,
though we can hide them with smoke, and
mix them with poison, cannot be quarried
nor built over, and they are always therefore
gloriously arranged ; so gloriously, that
unless you have notable powers of memory
you need not hope to approach the effect of
any sky that interests you. For both its
grace and its glow depend upon the united
influence of every cloud within its compass :
they all move and burn together in a marvel-
lous harmony ; not a cloud of them is out of
its appointed place, or fails of its parts in the
choir : and if you are not able to recollect
(which in the case of a complicated sky
it is impossible you should) precisely the
form and position of all the clouds at a given
moment, ^you cannot draw the sky at all ;
for the clouds will not fit if you draw one
part of them three or four minutes before
another. You must try therefore to help
what memory you have, by sketching at the
II] SKETCHING FROM NATURE 139
utmost possible speed the whole range of the
clouds ; marking, by any shorthand or sym-
bolic work you can hit upon, the peculiar
character of each, as transparent, or fleecy,
or linear, or undulatory ; giving afterwards
such completion to the parts as your recol-
lection will enable you to do. This, however,
only when the sky is interesting from its
general aspect ; at other times, do not try to
draw all the sky, but a single cloud : some-
times a round cumulus will stay five or six
minutes quite steady enough to let you
mark out his principal masses ; and one or
two white or crimson lines which cross the
sunrise will often stay without serious change
for as long. And in order to be the readier
in dra-wing them, practise occasionally
drawing lumps of cotton, which wdll teach
you better than any other stable thing the
kind of softness there is in clouds. For
you will find when you have made a few
genuine studies of sky, and then look at
any ancient or modern painting, that ordin-
ary artists have always fallen into one of two
faults : either, in rounding the clouds, they
make them as solid and hard-edged as a
heap of stones tied up in a sack, or they
represent them not as rounded at aU, but as
vague wreaths of mist or flat lights in the
sky ; and think they have done enough in
leaving a little white paper between dashes
of blue, or in taking an irregular space out
with the sponge. Now clouds are not as
140 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
solid as flour sacks ; but, on the other hand,
they are neither spongy nor flat. They are
definite and very beautiful forms of sculp-
tured mist ; sculptured is a perfectly
accurate word ; they are not more drifted
into form than they are carved into form,
the warm air around them cutting them into
shape by absorbing the visible vapour beyond
certain limits ; hence their angular and
fantastic outlines, as different from a
swollen, spherical, or globular formation,
on the one hand, as from that of flat films
or shapeless mists on the other. And the
worst of all is, that while these forms are
difficult enough to draw on any terms,
especially considering that they never stay
quiet, they must be drawn also at greater dis-
advantage of light and shade than any others,
the force of light in clouds being wholly
unattainable by art ; so that if we put shade
enough to express their form as positively as
it is expressed in reality, we must make them
painfully too dark on the dark sides. Never-
theless, they are so beautiful, if you in the
least succeed with them, that you will hardly,
I think, lose courage. Outline them often
with the pen, as you can catch them here
and there i one of the chief uses of doing
this will be, not so much the memorandum
so obtained as the lesson you will get re-
specting the softness of the cloud-outlines.
You will always find yourself at a loss to
see where the outline really is ; and when
11] SKETCHING FROM' NATURE 141
dra'WTi it will always look hard and false,
and will assuredty be either too ro"^nd or too
square, however often you alter it, merely
passing from the one fault to the other and
back again, the real cloud striking an inex-
pressible mean between roundness and
squareness in ail its coils or battlements. I
speak at present, of course, only of the cu-
mulus cloud : the lighter wreaths and flakes
of the upper sky cannot be outlined ; — they
can only be sketched, like locks of hair,
by many lines of the pen. Firmly developed
bars of cloud on the horizon are in general
easy enough, and may be drawn with de-
cision. When you have thus accustomed
yourself a little to the placing and action of
clouds, try to work out their light and
shade, just as carefully as you do that of
other things, looking exclusively for ex-
amples of treatment to the vignettes in
Rogers's Italy and Poems, and to the Liber
Studiofum, unless you have access to some
examples of Turner’s own work. No other
artist ever yet drew the sky : even Titian’s
clouds, and Tintoret’s, are conventional.
The clouds in the ^ Ben Arthur % ' Source
of Arveron and ' Calais Pier are among
the best of Turner’s storm studies ; and
of the upper clouds, the vigifettes to
Rogers’s Poems furnish as many examples
as you need.
And now, as our first lesson was taken
from the sky, so, for the present, let our last
142 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ii
be. I do not advise you to be in any haste
to master the contents of my next letter.
If you have any real talent for dravnng, you
will take delight in the discoveries of natural
loveliness, which the studies I have already
proposed will lead you into, among the fields
and hills ; and be assured that the more
quietly and single-heartedly you take each
step in the art, the quicker, on the whole,
will your progress be. I would rather,
indeed, have discussed the subjects of the
following letter at greater length, and in a
separate work addressed to more advanced
students ; but as there are one or two things
to be said on composition which may set the
young artist’s mind somew’^hat more at rest,
or furnish him with defence from the
urgency of ill-advisers, I will glance over
the main heads of the matter here ; trusting
that my doing so may not beguile you, my
dear reader, from your serious work, or lead
you to think me, in occupying part of this
book with talk not altogether relevant to it,
less entirely or
Faithfully yours,
J. Ruskin.
Ill
ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION
My dear Reader, — If you have been
obedient, and have hitherto done all that
I have told you, I trust it has not been
without much subdued remonstrance, and
some serious vexation. For I should be sorry
if, when you were led by the course of your
study to observe closely such things as are
beautiful in colour, you had not longed to
paint them, and felt considerable difficulty
in complying with your restriction to the
use of black, or blue, or grey. You ought to
love colour, and to think nothing quite
beautiful or perfect without it ; and if you
really do love it, for its own sake, and are
not merely desirous to colour because you
think painting a finer thing than drawing,
there is some chance you may colour well.
Nevertheless, you need not hope ever to
produce anything more than pleasant helps
to memory, or useful and suggestive
sketches in colour, unless you m^an to be
wholly an artist. You may, in the time
which other vocations leave at your disposal,
produce finished, beautiful, and masteiiy
drawings in light and shade. But to colour
143
144 the elements OF DRA WING [iii
well, requires your life. It cannot be done
cheaper. The difficulty of doing right is
increased — not twofold nor threefold, but a
thousandfold, and more — by the addition
of colour to your work. For the • chances
are more than a thousand to one against
your being right both in form and colour
with a given touch : it is difficult enough to
be right in form, if you attend to that only ;
but when you have to attend, at the same
moment, to a much more subtle thing than
the form, the difficulty is strangely increased,
and multiplied almost to infinity by this
great fact, that, while form is absolute, so that
you can say at the moment you draw any
line that it is either right or wrong, colour
is whoUy relative, Ever^^ hue throughout
your work is altered by every touch
that you add in other places ; so that
what was warm a minute ago, becomes cold
when you have put a hotter colour in an-
other place, and what was in harmony when
you left it, becomes discordant as you set
other colours beside it ; so that every touch
must be laid, not with a view to its effect
at the time, but with a view to its effect in
futurity, the result upon it of all that is
afterwards to be done being previously
considered. You may easily understand
that, this being so, nothing but the devo-
tion of life, and great genius besides, can
make a colourist.
But though you cannot produce finished
m
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 145
coloured drawings of any value, you may give
yourself much pleasure, and be of great
use to other people, by occasionally sketch-
ing with a view to colour only ; and pre-
serving distinct statements of certain colour
facts — as that the harvest-moon at rising
was of such and such a red, and surrounded
by clouds of such and such a rosy grey ;
that the mountains at evening were in truth
so deep in purple ; and the waves by the
boat’s side were indeed of that incredible
green. This only, observe, if you have an
eye for colour ; but you may presume that
you have this, if you enjoy colour.
And, though of course you should always
give as much form to your subject as your
attention to its colour will admit of, remem-
ber that the whole value of what you are
about depends, in a coloured sketch, on
the colour merely. If the colour is wrong,
everything is wrong ; just as, if you are
singing, and sing false notes, it does not
matter how true the words are. If you sing
at all, you must sing sweetly ; and if you
colour at all, you must colour rightly.
Give up all the form, rather than the slight-
est part of the colour : just as, if you felt
yourself in danger of a false note, you would
give up the word, and sing a meaningless
sound, if you felt that so you could save the
note. Never mind though your houses
are all tumbling down — though your clouds
are mere blots, and your trees mere knobs,
b , :
146 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [m
and yonr snn and moon like crooked six-
pences — so only "thali trees, clouds, iiouses,
and sun or moon, are of the right colours.
Of course, the discipline you have gone
through will enable you to hint something of
form, even in the fastest sweep of the brush ^
but do not let the thought of form hamper you
in the least, when you begin to make coloured
memoranda. If you want the form of the
subject, draw it in black and white. If you
want its colour, take its colour, and be sure
you have it, and not a spurious, treacherous,
half-measured piece of mutual concession,
with the colours all wrong, and the forms
still anything but right. It is best to get
into the habit of considering the coloured
work merely as supplementary to your other
studies ; making your careful drawings of
the subject first, and then a coloured mem-
orandum separately, as shapeless as you like,
but faithful in hue, and entirely minding
its own business. This principle, however,
bears chiefly on large and distant subjects ;
in foregrounds and near studies, the col-
our cannot be had without a good deal of
definition of form. For if you do not map
the mosses on the stones accurately, 3-ou
wiU not have the right quantity of colour in
each bit 'of moss pattern, and then none of
the colours will look right ; but it always
simplifies the work much if you are clear as
to ^i^our point of aim, and satisfied, when
necessary, to fail of all but that.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 147
Now, of course, if I were to enter into
detail respecting colouring, which is the be-
ginning and end of a painter’s craft, I should
need to make this a work in three volumes
Instead of three letters, and to illustrate it in
the costliest way. I only hope, at present,
to set you pleasantly and profitably to work,
leaving you, within the tethering of certain
leading strings, to gather what advantages
you can from the works of art of which every
year brings a greater number within your
reach ; — and from the instruction which,
every year, our rising artists will be more
ready to give kindly, and better able to
give wdsely.
And, first, of materials. Use hard cake
colours, not moist colours : grind a sufficient
quantity of each on your palette every morn-
ing, keeping a separate plate, large and
deep, for colours to be used in broad washes,
and wash both plate and palette every even-
ing, so as to be able always to get good
and pure colour when you need it ; and
force yourself into cleanly and orderly habits
about your colours. The two best colourists
of modern times, Turner and Rossetti
^ I give Rossetti this pre-eminence, because,
though the leading re-Raphaelites have^aU about
equal power over colour in the abstract, Rossetti
and Holman Hunt are distinguished above the rest
for rendering colour under efiects of light ; and of
these two, Rossetti composes with richer fancy, and
with a deeper sense of beauty. Hunt’s stern realism
leading him continually into harshness. Rossetti’s
carelessness, to do him justice, is only in water-
colour, never in oil.
afford ns, I am sorry to say, no confirmation
of this precept by their practice. Turner
was, and Rossetti is, as slovenly in all their
procedures as men can well be ; but the
result of this was, with Turner, that the
colours have altered in aU his pictures, and
in many of his drawings ; and the result of
it with Rossetti is, that, though his colours
are safe, he has sometimes to throw aside
work that was half done, and begin over
again. William Hunt, of the Old Water-
colour Society, is ver^^ neat in his practice ;
so, I believe, is Mulready ; so is John Lewis ;
and so are the leading Pre-Raphaelites,
Rossetti only excepted. And there can
be no doubt about the goodness of the ad-
vice, if it were only for this reason, that the
more particular you are about your colours
the more you will get into a deliberate and
methodical habit in using them, and all true
speed in colouring comes of this deliberation.
Use Chinese white, well ground, to mix
with your colours in order to pale them, in-
stead of a quantity of ^vater. You will
thus be able to shape your masses more
quietly, and play the colours about with
more ease ; they will not damp your paper so
much, a^-d you will be able to go on continu-
ally, and lay forms of passing cloud and
other fugitive or delicately shaped lights,
otherwise unattainable except by time.
This mixing of white with the pigments,
so as to render them opaque, constitutes
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 149
6oi:^y-coiour drawing as opposed to trans-
parent-colour drawing and yon will, perhaps,
have it often said to you that the body-
colour is ^ illegitimate h It is just as legiti-
mate as oil-painting, being, so far as
handling is concerned, the same process, only
without its nncleanliness, its unwhoiesome-
ness, or its inconvenience ; for oil will not
dry quicMy, nor carry safely, nor give the
same effects of atmosphere without tenfold
labour. And if you hear it said that
the body-colour looks chalky or opaque,
and, as is very likely, think so yourself, be
yet assured of this, that though certain
effects of glow and transparencies of gloom
are not to be reached without transparent
colour, those glows and glooms are not
the noblest aim of art. After many years'
study of the various results of fresco and
oil painting in Italy, and of body-colour and
transparent colour in England, I am now
entirely convinced that the greatest things
that are to be done in art must be done in
dead colour. The habit of depending on
varnish or on lucid tints for transparency,
makes the painter comparatively lose sight
of the nobler translucence which is obtained by
breaking various colours amidst each other :
and even when, as by Correggio,* exquisite
play of hue is joined with exquisite trans-
parency, the delight in the depth almost
always leads the painter into mean and false
chiaroscuro ; it leads him to like dark back-
150 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
grounds instead of luminous ones and to
enjoy, in general, quality of colour more
than grandeur of composition, and confined
light rather than open sunshine : so that
the really greatest thoughts of the greatest
men have always, so far as I remember,
been reached in dead colour, and the noblest
oil pictures of Tintoret and Veronese are
those which are likest frescos.
Beside all this, the fact is, that though
sometimes a little chalky and coarse-look-
1 All the degradation of art which was brought
about, after the rise of the Dutch school, by asphal-
tum, yellow varnish, and brown trees, would have
been prevented, if only painters had been forced to
work in dead colour. Any colour will do for some
people, if it is browned and shining ; but fallacy in
dead colour is detected on the instant. I even
believe that whenever a painter begins to wish that
he could touch any portion of his work with gum,
he is going wrong.
It is necessary, however, in this matter, carefully
to distinguish between translucency and lustre.
Translucency, though, as I have said above, a dan-
gerous temptation, is, in its place, beautiful ; but
lustre or shininess is always, in painting, a defect.
Nay, one of my best painter-friends (the ‘ best *
being understood to attach to both divisions of that
awkward compound word,) tried the other day to
persuade me that lustre was an ignobleness in any-
thing ; and it was only the fear of treason to ladies’
eyes, and to mountain streams, and to morning
dew, which kept me from yielding the point to him.
One is apt^always to generalize too quickly in such
matters ; 'But there can be no question that lustre
is destructive of loveliness in colour, as it is of in-
telligibility in form. Whatever may be the pride
of a young beauty in the knowledge that her eyes
shine "(though perhaps even eyes are most beautiful
in dimness), she would be sorry if her cheeks did ;
and which of us would wish to polish a rose ?
#
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 151
ing, body-colour is, in a sketch, infinitely
liker nature than transparent colour : the
bloom and mist of distance are accurately
and instantly represented by the film of
opaque blue (quite accurately, I think, by
nothing else) ; and for ground, rocks, and
buildings, the earthy and solid surface is,
of course, always truer than the most finished
and carefully wrought work in transparent
tints can ever be.
Against one thing, hov/ever, I must stead-
ily caution you. Ail kinds of colour are
equally illegitimate if you think they will
allow you to alter at your pleasure, or
blunder at your ease. There is no vehicle
or method of colour which admits of alter-
ation or repentance ; you must be right at
once, or never ; and you might as well hope
to catch a rifle bullet in your hand, and put it
straight, when it was going wrong, as to
recover a tint once spoiled. The secret of
ail good colour in oil, water, or an3rthing
else, lies primarily in that sentence spoken
to me by Muiready : ‘ Know what you have
to do.' The process may be a long one,
perhaps : you may have to ground with one
colour ; to touch it with fragments of a
second; to crumble a third into the inl^erstices ;
a fourth into the interstices of the third ;
to glaze the whole with a fifth ; and to rein-
force in points with a sixth ; but whether
you have one, or ten, or twenty processes
to go through, you must go straight through
152 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
them, knowingly and foreseeingiy all the
way ; and if you get the thing once wrong,
there is no hope for you but in washing or
scraping boldly down to the white ground,
and beginning again.
The drawing in body-colour will tend to
teach you all this, more than any other
method, and above all it will prevent you
from falling into the pestilent habit of spong-
ing to get texture ; a trick which has nearly
ruined our modern water-colour school of
art. There are sometimes places in which a
skilful artist udll roughen his paper a little
to get certain conditions of dusty colour
with more ease than he could otherwise ;
and sometimes a skilfully rased piece of paper
will, in the midst of transparent tints, answer
nearly the purpose of chalky body-colour in
representing the surface of rocks or building.
But artifices of this kind are always treacher-
ous in a tyro's hands, tempting him to trust
them : and you had better always work on
white or grey paper as smooth as silk ^ ;
and never disturb the surface of your
colour or paper, except finally to scratch
out the very highest lights if you are using
transparent colours.
^ But not shiny or greasy. Bristol board, or hot-
pressed imperial, or grey paper that feels slightly
adhesive to the hand, is best. Coarse, gritty, and
sandy papers are fit only for blotters and blunderers;
no good draughtsman would lay a line on them.
Turner worked much on a thin tough paper, dead in
surface; rolling up his sketches in tight bundles
that would go deep into his pockets.
I
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 153
I have said above that body-colour draw-
ing will teach you the use of colour better
than working with merely transparent tints ;
but this is not because the process is an
easier one, but because it is a more complete
one, and also because it involves some work-
ing with transparent tints in the best way.
You are not to think that because you use
body-colour you may make any kind of mess
that you like, and yet get out of it. But
you are to avail yourself of the characters
of your material, which enable you most
nearly to imitate the processes of Nature.
Thus, suppose you have a red rocky cliS
to sketch, with blue clouds floating over it.
You paint your clifl first firmly, then take
your blue, mixing it to such a tint (and here
is a great part of the skill needed), that when
it is laid over the red, in the thickness re-
quired for the efiect of the mist, the warm
rock-colour showing through the blue
cloud-colour, may bring it to exactly the
hue you want (your upper tint, therefore,
must be mixed colder than you want it) ;
then you lay it on, varying it as you strike it,
getting the forms of the mist at once, and,
if it be rightly done, with exquisite quality
of colour, from the warm tint's showing
through and between the particles of the
other. When it is dry, you may add a little
colour to retouch the edges where they want
shape, or heighten the lights where they
want roundness, or put another tone over the
154 the elements OF DRAWING [iii
whole : but you can take none away. If
you touch or disturb the surface, or by any
untoward accident mix the under and upper
colours together, all is lost irrecoverably.
Begin your drawing from the ground again
if you like, or throw it into the fire if you
like. But do not waste time in trying to
mend it
This discussion of the relative merits of
transparent and opaque colour has, however,
led us a little beyond the point where we
should have begun ; we must go back to our
palette, if you please. Get a cake of each of
the hard colours named in the note below ^
1 I insist upon this unalterability of colour the
more because I address you as a beginner, or an
amateur : a great artist can sometimes get out of a
difficulty with credit, or repent without confession.
Yet even Titian’s alterations usually show as stains
on his work.
2 It is, I think, a piece of affectation to try to work
with few colours : it saves time to have enough tints
prepared without mixing, and you may at once
allow yourself these twenty-four. If you arrange
them in your colour box in the order I have set them
down, you will always easily put your finger on the
one you want.
Cobalt
Black
Lemon yellow
Raw sienna
Mars orange
Brown faadder
Smalt
Gamboge
Cadmium yellow
Burnt sienna
Extract of vermilion
Burnt umber
Antwerp blue
Emetald green
Yellow ochre
Light red
Carmine
Vandyke brown
Prussian blue
Hooker’s green
Roman ochre
Indian red
Violet carmiae
Sepia
Antwerp blue and Prussian blue are not very
I
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 155
and try experiments on their simple combin-
ations, by mixing each colour with every
other. If you like to do it in an orderly
way, you may prepare a squared piece of
pasteboard, and put the pure colours in
columns at
the top and
side ;
the mixed
tints being given at the intersections, thus
(the letters
standing for
colours) :
b
c d
e
t &c.
a a b
a c ad
a e
a f
b —
be b d
b e
b f
c —
— c d
c e
c f
a —
e —
___
d e
d f
e f
&c.
This will give you some general notion of
the characters of mixed tints of two colours
only, and it is better in practice to confine
yourself as much as possible to these, and
to get more complicated colours, either by
putting a third over the first blended tint,
permanent colours, but you need not care much
about permanence in your work as yet, and they are
both beautiful ; while Indigo is marked by Field
as more fugitive still, and is very ugly. Hooker’s
green is a mixed colour, put in the box merely to
save you loss of time in mixing gamboge and Prus-
sian, blue. No. I is the best tint of it. Violet car-
mine is a noble colour for laying broken shadows
with, to be worked into afterwards wnth other col-
ours. •
If you wish to take up colouring seriously you had
better get Field’s Chromatography at once ; only do
not attend to anything it says about principles or
harmonies of colour ; but only to its statements of
practical serviceableness in pigments, and of their
operations on each other when mixed, etc.
156 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
or by putting the third into its interstices.
Nothing but watchful practice wdll teach you
the effects that colours have on each other
when thus put over, or beside, each other.
When you have got a little used to the
principal combinations, place yourself at a
window which the sun does not shine in at,
commanding some simple piece of landscape :
outline this landscape roughly ; then take
a piece of white cardboard, cut out a hole
in it about the size of a large pea ; and sup-
posing R is the room, a d the window, and
you are sitting at a. Fig. 29, hold this card-
board a little outside of the window, up-
right, and in the direction h d, parallel to
the side of the window, or a little turned, so
as to catch more light, as at a d, never
turned as at 0 d, or the paper will be dark.
Then you will see the landscape, bit by
bit, through the circular hole. Match the
colours of each important bit as nearly as
you can, mixing your tints with white, be-
side the aperture. When matched, put a
touch of the same tint at the top of your
paper, writing under it : ‘ dark tree colour
' hill colour % * field colour’, as the case may
be. Then wash the tint away from beside
the opening, and the cardboard will be ready
to matcii another piece of the landscape
1 A more methodical, though, under general cir-
cumstances, uselessly prolix way, is to cut a square
hole, some half an in^ wide, in the sheet of card-
board, and a series of small circular holes in a slip
of cardboard an inch wide. Pass the slip over the
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 157
When you have got the colours of the prin^
cipal masses thus indicated, lay on a piece
of each in your sketch in its right place, and
then proceed to complete the sketch in har-
mony with them, by your eye.
In the course of your early experiments,
you will be much struck by two things : the
first, the inimitable brilliancy of light in sky
and in sun-lighted things ; and the second,
that among the tints which you can imitate,
those which you thought the darkest will
continually turn out to be in reality the
lightest. Darkness of objects is estimated by
us, under ordinary circumstances, much more
by knowledge than by sight ; thus, a cedar,
or Scotch fir, at 200 yards off, will be thought
of darker green than an elm or oak near us ;
because we know by experience that the
peculiar colour they exhibit, at that distance,
is the sign of darkness of foliage. But when
w’e try them through the cardboard, the
near oak wdll be found, indeed, rather dark
green, and the distant cedar, perhaps, pale
grey-purple. The quantity of purple and grey
in Nature is, by the way, another somewhat
surprising subject of discovery.
Well, having ascertained thus your prin-
sqnare opening, and match each colour beside one of
the circular openings. You will thus have no occa-
sion to wash any of the colours awmy. But the first
rough method is generally all you want, as, after a
little practice, you only need to look at the hue
through the opening in order to be able to transfer
it to your drawing at once.
ISS THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
cipal tints, you may proceed to fill up your
sketch ; in doing which observe these
foilowing particulars :
1. Many portions of your subject ap-
peared through the aperture in the paper
brighter than the paper, as sky, sun-lighted
grass, etc. Leave these portions, for the
present, white ; and proceed with the parts
of which you can match the tints.
2. As you tried your subject with the
cardboard, you must have observed how
many changes of hue took place over small
spaces. In filling up your work, try to
educate your eye to perceive these differences
of hue without the help of the cardboard,
and lay them deliberately, like a mosaic-
worker, as separate colours, preparing each
carefully on your palette, and laying it as
if it were a patch of coloured cloth, cut out,
to be fitted neatly by its edge to the next
patch ; so that the fault of your work may
be, not a slurred or misty look, but a patched
bed-cover look, as if it had all been cut out
with scissors. For instance, in drawing the
trunk of a birch tree, there will be probably
white high lights, then a pale rosy grey round
them on the light side, then a (probably
greenish) deeper grey on the dark side,
varied by reflected colours, and, over all,
rich black strips of bark and brown spots of
moss. Lay first the rosy grey, leaving white
for the high lights and for the spots of moss ^
and not touching the dark side. Then lay
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 159
the grey for the dark side, fitting it well up
to the rosy grey of the light, leaving also in
this darker grey the white paper in the
places for the black and brown moss ; then
prepare the moss colours separately for each
spot, and lay each in the white place left for
it. Not one grain of white, except that
purposely left for the high lights, must be
visible when the work is done, even through
a magnifying-glass, so cunningly must you
fit the edges to each other. Finally, take your
background colours, and put them on each
side of the tree-trunk, fitting them care-
fully to its edge.
Fine work you would make of this,
wouldn't you, if you had not learned to draw
first and could not now draw a good outline
for the stem, much less terminate a colour
mass in the outline you wanted ?
Your work will look very odd for some
time, when you first begin to paint in this
way, and before you can modify it, as I shall
tell you presently how ; but never mind ;
it is of the greatest possible importance that
you should practise this separate laying on
of the hues, for all good colouring finally
depends on it. It is, indeed, often necessary,
and sometimes desirable, to lay one colour and
form boldly over another: thus In laying
leaves on blue sky, it is impossible always in
large pictures, or when pressed for time, to
fill in the blue through the interstices of
the leaves ; and the great Venetians con-
r
i6o THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
stantly lay their blue ground first, and then,
having let it dry, strike the golden brown
over it in the form of the leaf, leaving the
under blue to shine through the gold, and
subdue it to the olive-green they want. But
in the most precious and perfect work each
leaf is inlaid, and the blue worked round
it ; and, whether you use one or other mode
of getting your result, it is equally necessary
to be absolute and decisive in your laying
the colour. Either your ground must be
laid firmly first and then your upper colour
struck upon it in perfect form, for ever,
thenceforward, unalterable ; or else the two
colours must be individually put in their
places, and led up to each other till they meet
at their appointed border, equally, thence-
forward, unchangeable. Either process, you
see, involves absolute decision. If you once
begin to slur, or change, or sketch, or try this
way and that with your colour, it is all over
with it and with you. You wiU continually
see bad copyists trying to imitate the Vene-
tians, by daubing their colours about, and
retouching, and finishing, and softening :
when every touch and every added hue
only lead them farther into chaos. There
is a dog between two children in a Veronese
in the Lduvre, which gives the copyists much
employment. He has a dark ground behind
him, which Veronese has painted first, and
then when it was dry, or nearly so, struck
the locks of the dog's white hair over it
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION i6i
with some half-dozen curling sweeps of his
brush, right at once, and for ever. Had
one line or hair of them gone wrong, it would
have been wrong for ever ; no retouching
could have mended it. The poor copyists
daub in first some background, and then some
dog's hair ; then retouch the background,
then the hair ; work for hours at it, expect-
ing it always to come right to-morrow —
' when it is finished'. They may work for
centuries at it, and they will never do it. If
they can do it with Veronese's allowance of
work, half a dozen sweeps of the hand over
the dark background, -well ; if not, they may
ask the dog himself whether it will ever come
right, and get true answer from him — on
Launce's conditions : ' If he say '‘ay ", it
will ; if he say “no ", it will ; if he shake
his tail and say nothing, it will.’
3. Whenever you lay on a mass of colour,
be sure that however large it may be, or how-
ever small, it shall be gradated. No colour
exists in Nature under ordinary circumstances
wthout gradation. If you do not see this,
it is the fault of your inexperience: you
will see it in due time, if you practise enough.
But in general you may see it at once. In
the birch trunk, for instance, the rQsy grey
must he gradated by the roundness of the
stem till it meets the shaded side ; similarly
the shaded side is gradated by reflected light.
Accordingly, whether by adding water, or
white paint, or by unequal force of touch
.■■M
;i62 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [m
(this you will do at pleasure, according to the
texture you wish to produce), you must,
in every tint you lay on, make it a little paler
.at one part than another, and get an even
gradation between the two depths. This
is very like laying down a formal law or
recipe for you ,• but you will find it is merely
the assertion of a natural fact. It is not
indeed physically impossible to meet with
,an ungradated piece of colour, but it is so
supremely improbable, that you had better
get into the habit of asking yourself invari-
.abiy, when you are going to copy a tint —
not ‘ Is that gradated ? ’ but Which way is
that gradated ? ' and at least in ninety-nine
-out of a hundred instances, you will be able
to answer decisively after a careful glance,
though the gradation may have been so
: subtle that you did not see it at first. And
it does not matter how small the touch of
• colour may be, though not larger than the
smallest pin’s head, if one part of it is not
darker than the rest, it is a bad touch ; for
it is not merely because the natural fact is
so, that your colour should be gradated ;
the preciousness and pleasantness of the
• colour itself depends more on this than on
any otiier of its qualities, for gradation is to
colours just what curvature is to lines, both
being felt to be beautiful by the pure instinct
■ of every human mind, and both considered
.as types, expressing the law of gradual
• change and progress in the human soul itself.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 163
What the difference is in mere beaut^^ between
a gradated and nngradated colour, may be
seen easily by laying an even tint of rose-
colour on paper, and putting a rose leaf
beside it. The victorious beauty of the
rose as compared with other dowers de-
pends wholly on the delicacy and quantity
of its colour gradations, ail other flowers
being either less rich in gradation, not having
so many folds of leaf ; or less tender, being
patched and veined instead of flushed.
4. But observe, it is not enough in general
that colour should be gradated by being made
merely paler or darker at one place than
another. Generali}^ colour changes as it dimin’^
ishes, and is not merely darker at one spot, but
also purer at one spot than anywhere else. It
does not in the least follow that the darkest
spot should be the purest ; still less so that
the lightest should be the purest. V ery often
the two gradations more or less cross each
other, one passing in one direction from
paleness to darkness, another in another
direction from purity to dullness, but there
will almost always be both of them, how-
ever reconciled ; and you must never be
satisfied with a piece of colour until you have
got both : that is to say, every piece of blue
that you lay on must be quite blue'^only at
some given spot, nor that a large spot ;
and must be gradated from that into less
pure blue — greyish blue, or greenish blue, or
purplish blue — over all the rest of the space
1 64 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
it occupies. And this you must do in one
of three ways : either, while the colour is
wet, mix with it the colour which is
to subdue it, adding gradually a little more
and a little more ; or else, when the colour
is quite dry, strike a gradated touch of
another colour over it, leaving only a point
of the first tint visible ; or else, lay the sub-
duing tints on in small touches, as in the
exercise of tinting the chess-board. Of each of
these methods I have something to tell you
separately ; but that is distinct from the
subject of gradation, which I must not quit
without once more pressing upon you the
pre-eminent necessity of introducing it every-
where. I have profound dislike of anything
like habit of hand, and yet, in this one in-
stance, I feel almost tempted to encourage
you to get into a habit of never touching
paper with cojour, without securing a grada-
tion. You will not, in Turner’s largest oil
pictures, perhaps six or seven feet long by
four or five high, find one spot of colour as
large as a grain of wheat ungradated : and
you will find in practice, that brilliancy of
hue, and vigour of light, and even the aspect
of transparency in shade, are essentially de-
pendent on this character alone ; hardness,
coldness, and opacity resulting far more
from equality of colour than from nature
of colour. Give me sojne mud off a city
crossing, some ochre out of a gravel pit, a
little whitening, and some coal-dust, and I
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 165
win paint you a luminous picture, if you give
me time to gradate my mud, and subdue
my dust ; but though you had the red of the
ruby, the blue of the gentian, snow for the
light, and amber for the gold, you cannot
paint a luminous picture, if you keep the
masses of those colours unbroken in purity,
and unvarying in depth.
5. Next, note the three processes by
which gradation and other characters are
to be obtained :
A. Mixing while the colour is wet.
You may be confused by my first telling
you to lay on the hues in separate patches,
and then telling you to mix hues together as
you lay them on : but the separate masses
are to be laid when colours distinctly oppose
each other at a given limit ; the hues to be
mixed, when they palpitate one through the
other, or fade one into the other. It is
better to err a little on the distinct side. Thus
I told you to paint the dark and light sides
of the birch trunk separately, though, in
reality, the two tints change, as the trunk
turns away from the light, gradually one
into the other ; and, after being laid separ-
ately on, will need some farther touching
to harmonize them : but they do so in a
very narrow space, marked distinctly^ all the
way up the trunk; and it is easier and
safer, therefore, to keep them separate
at fi.rst. Whereas it often happens that
the whole beauty of two colours will depend
1 66 TBE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
on the one being continued well through the
other and playing in the midst of it : blue
and green often do so in water ; blue and
grey, or purple and scarlet, in sky : in hun-
dreds of such instances the most beautiful
and truthful results may be obtained by
laying one colour into the other while wet ;
judging wisely how far it will spread, or
blending it mth the brush in somewhat
thicker consistence of wet body-colour ; only
observe, never mix in this way two mixtures 5
let the colour you lay into the other be always
a simple, not a compound tint.
B. Laying one colour over another.
If you lay on a solid touch of vermilion,
and, after it is quite dry, strike a little very
wet carmine quickly over it, you will obtain
a much more brilliant red than by mixing
the carmine and vermilion. Similarly, if
you lay a dark colour first, and strike a little
blue or white body-colour lightly over it,
you will get a more beautiful grey than by
mixing the colour and the blue or white.
In very perfect painting, artifices of this
kind are continually used ; but I would not
have you trust much to them : they are apt
to make you think too much of quality of
colour^r- I should like you to depend on
little more than the dead colours, simply
laid on, only observe always this, that the
less colour you do the work with, the better
it will always be ^ : so that if you have
If colours were twenty times as costly as they
Ill] OxV COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 167
laid a red colour, and you want a purple one
above, do not mix the purple on your palette
and lay it on so thick as to overpower the
red, but take a little thin blue from your
palette, and lay it lightly over the red, so
as to let the red be seen through, and thu&
produce the required purple ; and if you
want a green hue over a blue one, do not lay
a quantity of green on the blue, but a little
yellow, and so on, always bringing the under
colour into service as far as you possibly
can. If, however, the colour beneath is
wholly opposed to the one 3^ou have to lay
on, as, suppose, if green is to be laid over
scarlet, you must either remove the required
parts of the under colour daintily first with
3"0ur knife, or with water ; or else, lay solid
white over it massively, and leave that to
dry, and then glaze the white with the upper
colour. This is better, in general, than
laying the upper colour itself so thick as to
conquer the ground, which, in fact, if it be
a transpai'ent colour, you cannot do. Thus,
if you have to strike warm boughs and
leaves of trees over blue sky, and they are
too intricate to have their places left for
them in laying the blue, it is better to lay
are, we should have many more good painters. If
I were Chancellor of the "Exchequer I trould lay a
tax of twenty shillings a cake on all colours except
black, Prussian blue, Vandyke brown, and Chinese
white, which I would leave for students. I don’t say
this jestingly ; I believe such a tax would do more
to advance real art than a great many schools of
design
i68 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
them first in solid white, and then glaze with
sienna and ochre, than to mix the sienna
and white ; though, of course, the process is
longer and more troublesome. Neverthe-
less, if the forms of touches required are very
delicate, the after glazing is impossible.
You must then mix the warm colour thick
at once, and so use it : and this is often
necessary for delicate grasses, and such other
fine threads of light in foreground work.
C. Breaking one colour in small points
through or over another.
This is the most important of all processes
in good modern ^ oil and water-colour
painting, but you need not hope to attain
very great skill in it. To do it well is very
laborious, and requires such skill and
delicacy of hand as can only be acquired by
unceasing practice. But you will find advan-
tage in noting the following points :
(a) In distant effects of rich subject, wood,
or rippled water, or broken clouds, much
may be done by touches or crumbling
dashes of rather dry colour, with other
colours afterwards put cunningly into the
interstices. The more you practise this,
when the subject evidently calls for it, the
more your eye will enjoy the higher qualities
of colour.'^ The process is, in fact, the carry-
1 I say modem, because Titian’s quiet way of
blending colours, which is the perfectly ri.qht one,
is not understood now by any artist. The best
colour we reach is got by stippling ; but this is not
quite right.
*
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 169
ing out of the principle of separate colours to
the utmost possible refinement ; using atoms
of colour in juxtaposition, instead of large
spaces. And note, in filling up minute
interstices of this kind, that if you want
the colour you fill them with to show brightly,
it is better to put a rather positive point
of it, with a little white left beside or round
it in the interstice, than to put a pale
tint of the colour over the whole interstice.
Yellow or orange will hardly show, if
pale, in small spaces ; but they show
brightly in firm touches, however small,
with white beside them.
(6) If a colour is to be darkened by
superimposed portions of another, it is,
in many cases, better to lay the uppermost
colour in rather vigorous small touches,
like finely chopped straw, over the under
one, than to lay on as a tint, for two reasons ;
the first, that the play of the two colours
together is pleasant to the eye ; the second,
that much expression of form may be got
by wise administration of the upper dark
touches. In distant mountains they may
be made pines of, or broken crags, or villages,
or stones, or whatever you choose ; in clouds
they may indicate the direction of the rain,
the roll and outline of the cloud'^asses ;
and in water, the minor waves. All noble
effects of dark atmosphere are got in good
water-colour drawing by these two expedi-
ents, interlacing the colours, or retouching
I/O THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
the lower one with fine darker drawing in
an upper. Sponging and washing for dark
atmospheric efiect is barbarous, and mere
tyro’s work, though it is often useful for
passages of delicate atmospheric light.
{c) When you have time, practise the
production of mixed tints by interlaced
touches of the pure colours out of which
they are formed, and use the process at the
parts of your sketches where you wish to get
rich and luscious effects. Study the works
of William Hunt, of the Old W^ater-colour
Society, in this respect, continually, and make
frequent memoranda of the variegations in
flowers ; not painting thefiower completely,
but laying the ground colour of one petal, and
painting the spots on it with studious pre-
cision : a series of single petals of lilies,
geraniums, tulips, etc., numbered with proper
reference to their position in the flower,
will be interesting to you on many grounds
besides those of art. Be careful to get the
gradated distribution of the spots well
followed in the calceolarias, foxgloves, and
the like ; and work out the odd, indefinite
hues of the spots themselves with minute
grains of pure interlaced colour, otherwise
you wilj. never get their richness or bloom.
You will be surprised to find as you do this,
first, the universaM'^ of the law of gradation
we have so much insisted upon ; secondly,
that Nature is just as economical of her fine
colours as I have told yon to be of yours.
mg§
Hi] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 17*
You would think, by the way she paints,
that her colours cost her something enor-
mous ; she wiU only give you a single pure
touch, just where the petal turns mto hght :
but doivn in the beU all is subdued, and under
the petal all is subdued, even in the showiest
flower. What you thought was bright blue
is, when you look close, only dustj-^ grey,
or green, or purple, or every colour in the
world at once, only a single gleam or streak
of pure blue in the centre of it. And so
with aU her colours. Sometimes I have
really thono^lit her miserliness intolerable :
in a gentiam for instance, the way she econo-
mises her ultramarine down in the bell is a
little too badh ■ c+
Next, respecting general tone. I said, jusr
now, that, for the sake of students, my tax
should not be laid on black or on white
pigments ; but if you mean to be a colourist,
you must lay a tax on them yourself when
you begin to use true colour ; that is W say,
von must use them httle, and make of them
much. There is no better test of your
colour tones being good, than your halving
made the white in your picture precious,
and the black conspicuous. _
I say, first, the white precious^ I do not
mean merely glittering or bnlhant : it is
easy to scratch white sea-gulls out of black
clouds, and dot clumsy foliage with chalky
dew ; but, when white is w'eU managed, it
ought to be strangely delicious,— tender as
1 See Note 6, in Appendi.x 1.
1/2 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
well as bright — like inlaid mother-of-pearl,
or white roses washed in milk. The eye
ought to seek it for rest, brilliant though it
may be ; and to feel it as a space of strange,
heavenly paleness in the midst of the
flushing of the colours. This effect you can
only reach by general depth of middle tint,
by absolutely refusing to allow any white
to exist except where you need it, and
by keeping the white itself subdued by grey,
except at a few points of chief lustre.
Secondly, you must make the black con-
spicuous. However small a point of black
may be, it ought to catch the eye, otherwise
your work is too heavy in the shadow. All
the ordinary shadows should be of some
colour — never black, nor approaching black,
they should be evidently and always of a
luminous nature, and the black should look
strange among them ; never occurring ex-
cept in a black object, or in small points
indicative of intense shade in the very centre
of masses of shadow. Shadows of absolutely
negative grey, however, may be beautifully
used with white, or with gold ; but still
though the black thus, in subdued strength,
becomes spacious^ it should always be
conspicuous ; the spectator should notice
this grey ifsutrality with some wonder, and
enjoy, all the more intensely on account of
it, the gold colour and the white which it
relieves. Of all the great colourists Velas-
quez is the greatest master of the black
I ■■
iiij ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 17 z
chords. His black is more precious than
most other people’s crimson.
It is not, however, only white and black
which yon must make valuable ; you must
give rare worth to every colour you use ;
but the white and black ought to separate
themselves quaintly from the rest, while
the other colours should be continually
passing one into the other, being all evidently
companions in the same gay world ; while
the white, black, and neutral grey should
stand monktshly aloof in the midst of them.
You may melt your crimson into purple,
your purple into blue, and your blue
into green, but you must not melt any
of them into black. You should, how-
ever, try, as I said, to give preciousness to
all your colours ; and this especially by
never using a grain more than will just do
the work, and giving each hue the highest !
value by opposition. All fine colouring, I|
like fine drawing, is delicate ; and so delicate ;
that if, at last, you see the colour you are j
putting on, you are putting on too much. 1
You ought to feel a change wrought in the
general tone, by touches of colour which
individually are too pale to be seen; and
if there is one atom of any colour in the
whole picture which is unnecesihry to it,
that atom hurts it.
Notice also that nearly all good com-
pound colours are odd colours. You shall
look at a hue in a good painter’s work ten
174 the elements OF DRAWING [in
minutes before you know what to call it.
You thought it was brown, presently you
feel that it is red ; next that there is, some-
how, yellow in it ; presently afterwards that
there is blue in it. If you try to copy it you
will always find your colour too warm or too
cold — no colour in the box will seem to have
any af&nity with it ; and yet it will be as
pure as if it were laid at a single touch with
a single colour.
As to the choice and harmony of colours
in general, if you cannot choose and har-
monize them by instinct, you will never
do it at ail. If you need examples of utterly
harsh and horrible colour, you may find
plenty given in treatises upon colouring, to
illustrate the laws of harmony ; and if you
want to colour beautifully, colour as best
pleases yourself at quiet times, not so as to
catch the eye, nor to look as if it were clever
or difficult to colour in that way, but so
that the colour may be pleasant to you when
you are happy, or thoughtful. Look much
at the morning and evening sky, and much
at simple flowers — dog-roses, wood hyacinths,
violets, poppies, thistles, heather, and such
like — as Nature arranges them in the woods
and fields. If ever any scientific person tells
you that ^wo colours are ' discordant make
a note of the two colours, and put them to-
gether whenever you can. I have actually
heard people say that blue and green were
disvcordant ; the two colours which Nature
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 175
seems to intend never to be separated, and
never to be felt, either of them, in its full
beauty without the other ! — a peacock's
neck, or a blue sky through green leaves, or
a blue wave with green lights through it,
being precisely the loveliest things, next to
clouds at sunrise, in this coloured world of
ours. If you have a good eye for colours,
you will soon find out how constantly Nature
puts purple and green together, purple and
scarlet, green and blue, yellow and neutral
grey, and the like ; and how she strikes
these colour-concords for general tones,
and then works into them with innumer-
able subordinate ones ; and you will gradu-
ally come to like what she does, and find out
new and beautiful chords of colour in her
work every day. If you enjoy them, depend
upon it you will paint them to a certain
point right : or, at least, if you do not enjoy
them, you are certain to paint them vTong.
If colour does not give you intense pleasure,
let it alone ; depend upon it, you are only
tormenting the eyes and senses of people
who feel colour, whenever you touch it ; and
that is unkind and improper. You will
find, also, your power of colouring depend
much on your state of health and right bal-
ance of mind ; when you are fai^ued or ill
you will not see colours well, and when you
are ill-tempered you will not choose them
well: thus, though not infallibly a test of
character in individuals, colour power is a
176 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
great sign of mental health in nations ; when
they are in a state of intellectual decline,
their colouring always gets dull You
must also take great care not to be misled
by affected talk about colours from people
who have not the gift of it : numbers are
eager and voluble about it who probably
never in all their lives received one genuine
colour-sensation. The modern religionists
of the school of Overbeck are just like people
who eat slate-pencil and chalk, and assure
everybody that they are nicer and purer
than strawberries and plums.
Take care also never to be misled into
any idea that colour can help or display
form ; colour ^ always disguises form, and
is meant to do so.
^ The worst general character that colour can
possibly have is a prevalent tendency to a dirty
yellowish green, like that of a decaying heap of
vegetables ,* this colour is accurately indicative of
decline or paralysis in missal-painting.
2 That is to say, local colour inherent in the object.
The gradations of colour in the various shadows
belonging to various lights exhibit form, and there-
fore no one but a colourist can ever draw forms per-
fectly {see Modern Painters^ vol. iv, chap- iii, at the
end) ; but all notions of explaining form by super-
imposed colour, as in architectural mouldings, are
absurd. Colour adorns form, but does not interpret
it. An apple is prettier because it is striped, but it
does not le©k a bit rounder ; and a cheek is prettier
because it is flushed, but you would see the form of
the cheek-bone better if it were not. Colour may,
indeed, detach one shape from another, as in ground-
ing a bas-relief, but it always diminishes the appear-
ance of projection, and whether you put blue, purple,
red, yellow or green, for your ground, the bas-relief
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION ijj
It is a favourite dogma among modern
writers on colour that * warm colours ' (reds
and yellows) ‘ approach ' or express nearness,
and ' cold colours ’ (blue and grey) ' retire '
or express distance. So far is this from
being the case, that no expression of dis-
tance in the world is so great as that of the
gold and orange in twilight sky. Colours,
as such, are absolutely inexpressive re-
specting distance. It is their quality (as
depth, delicacy, etc.) which expresses dis-
tance, not their tint. A blue bandbox
set on the same shelf with a yellow one
will not look an inch farther off, but a
red or orange cloud, in the upper sky, will
always appear to be beyond a blue cloud
close to us, as it is in reality. It is quite
true that in certain objects, blue is a sign of
distance ; but that is not because blue is a
retiring colour, but because the mist in the
air is blue, and therefore any warm colour
which has not strength of light enough to
pierce the mist is lost or subdued in its blue :
but blue is no more, on this account, a ' re-
tiring colour than brown is a retiring colour,
because, when stones are seen through brown
water, the deeper they lie the browner they
look ; or than yeUow is a retiring colour,
because, w^hen objects are seen tbcough a
London fog, the farther off they are the
will be just as clearly or just as imperfectly relieved,
as long as the colours are of equal depth. The blue
ground will not retire the hundredth part of an inch
more than the red one.
N
178 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
yellower they look. Neither blue, nor
yellow, nor red, can have, as such, the
smallest power of expressing either nearness
or distance : they express them only under
the peculiar circumstances which render
them at the moment, or in that place, signs
of nearness or distance. Thus, vivid orange
in an orange is a sign of nearness, for if you
put the orange a great way oh, its colour
will not look so bright ; but vivid orange
in sky is a sign of distance, because you
cannot get the colour of orange in a cloud
near you. So purple in a violet or a hyacinth
is a sign of nearness, because the closer you
look at them the more purple you see. But
purple in a mountain is a sign of distance,
because a mountain close to you is not
purple, but green or grey. It may, indeed,
be generally assumed that a tender or pale
colour will more or less express distance,
and a powerful or dark colour nearness ; but
even this is not always so. Heathery hills
will usually give a pale and tender purple
near, and an intense and dark purple far
away ; the rose colour of sunset on snow is
pale on the snow at your feet, deep and full
on the snow in the distance ; and the green
of a Swiss lake is pale in the clear waves
on the beach, but intense as an emerald in
the sunstreak, six miles from shore. And
in any case, when the foreground is in strong
light, with much water about it, or white
surface, casting intense reflections, all its
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 179
colours may be perfectly delicate, pale, and
faint ; while the distance, when it is in
shadow, may relieve the whole foreground
with intense darks of purple, blue green, or
ultramarine blue. So that, on the whole,
it is quite hopeless and absurd to expect
an}^ help from laws of ' aerial perspective \
Look for the natural effects, and set them
down as fully as you can, and as faithfully,
and never alter a colour because it won’t
look in its right place. Put the colour
strong, if it be strong, though far off ; faint,
if it be faint, though close to you. Why
should you suppose that Nature always
means you to know exactly how far one
thing is from another ? She certainly in-
tends you always to enjoy her colouring,
but she does not wish you always to measure
her space. You would be hard put to it,
every time you painted the sun setting, if
you had to express his 95,000,000 miles of
distance in ' aerial perspective.’
There is, however, I think, one law about
distance, which has some claims to be con-
sidered a constant one : namely, that dull-
ness and heaviness of colour are more or less
indicative of nearness. All distant colour
is pure colour : it may not be bright, but
it is clear and lovely, not opaque ndt soiled ;
for the air and light coming between us and
any earthy or imperfect colour, purify or
harmonize it ; hence a bad colourist is
peculiarly incapable of expressing distance.
i8o THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
I do not of course mean that you are to use
bad colours in your foreground by way of
making it come forward ; but only that a
failure in colour there will not put it out
of its place ; while a failure in colour in the
distance will at once do away with its re-
moteness : your dull-coloured foreground
will still be a foreground, though ill-painted ;
but your ill-painted distance will not be
merely a dull distance — it will be no distance
at all.
I have only one thing more to advise you^
namely, never to colour petulantly or hur-
riedly. You will not, indeed, be able, if
you attend properly to your colouring, to
get anything like the quantity of form you
could in a chiaroscuro sketch ; nevertheless,
if you do not dash or rush at your work,
nor do it lazily, you may always get enough
form to be satisfactory. An extra quarter
of an hour, distributed in quietness over the
course of the whole study, may just make
the difference between a quite intellig-
ible drawing, and a slovenly and obscure
one. If you determine weU beforehand
what outline each piece of colour is to have ;
and, when it is on the paper, guide it without
nervousness, as far as you can, into the form
required T and then, after it is dry, consider
thoroughly what touches are needed to
complete it, before laying one of them on ;
you will be surprised to find how masterly
the work will soon look, as compared -with
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION i8r
a hurried or ill-considered sketch. In no
process that I know of — ^least of all in
sketching — can time be really gained by
precipitation. It is gained only by caution ;
and gained in aH sorts of ways ; for not
only truth of form, but force of light, is
always, added by an intelligent and shapely
laying of the shadow colours. You may
often make a simple hat tint, rightly gra-
dated and edged, express a complicated
piece of subject without a single retouch.
The two Swiss cottages, for instance, with
their balconies, and glittering windows, and
general character of shingly eaves, are ex-
pressed in Fig. 30 with one tint of grey, and
a few dispersed spots and lines of it ; all
of which you ought to be able to lay on
without more than thrice dipping your brush,
and without a single touch after the tint
is dry.
Here, then, for I cannot without coloured
illustrations tell you more, I must leave you
to follow out the subject for yourself, with
such help as you may receive from the
water-colour drawings accessible to you ;
or from any of the little treatises on their
art which have been published lately by
our water-colour painters^. But ^ do not
trust much to works of this kind. You
may get valuable hints from them as to
1 See, however, at the close of this letter, the
notice of one more point connected with the manage-
ment of colour, under the head ‘ Law of Harmony *.
iS2 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
mixture of colours ; and here and there you
will find a useful artifice or process explained ;
but nearly all such books are written only
to help idle amateurs to a meretricious skill,
and they are full of precepts and principles
which may, for the most part, be interpreted
by their precise negatives, and then acted
upon with advantage. Most of them praise
boldness, when the only safe attendant spirit
of a beginner is caution ; advise velocity,
when the first condition of success is deliber-
ation ; and plead for generalization, when
all the foundations of power must be laid
in knowledge of speciality.
And now, in the last place, I have a few
things to tell you respecting that dangerous
nobleness of consummate art — Composition.
For though it is quite unnecessary for you
yet awhile to attempt it, and it may be
inexpedient for you to attempt it at all,
you ought to know what it means, and to
look for and enjoy it in the art of others.
Composition means, literally and simply,
putting several things together, so as to
make one thing out of them ; the nature
and goodness of which they all have a share
in producing. Thus a musician composes
an air, by putting notes together in certain
relations"*; a poet composes a poem, by
putting thoughts and words in pleasant
order ; and a painter a picture, by putting
thoughts, forms, and colours in pleasant
order.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 183
In all these cases, observe, an intended
unity must be the result of composition.
A paviour cannot be said to compose the
heap of stones, which he empties from his
cart, nor the sower the handful of seed which
he scatters from his hand. It is the essence
of composition that everything should be
in a determined place, perform an intended
part, and act, in that part, advantageously
for everything that is connected with it.
Composition, understood in this pure
sense, is the type, in the arts of mankind,
of the Providential government of the
world It is an exhibition, in the order
given to notes, or colours, or forms, of the
advantage of perfect fellowship, discipline,
and contentment. In a well-composed air,
no note, however short or low, can be spared,
but the least is as necessary as the greatest :
no note, however prolonged, is tedious ; but
the others prepare for, and are benefited
by, its duration : no note, however high, is
tyrannous ; the others prepare for, and are
benefited by, its exaltation : no note, how-
ever low is overpowered ; the others prepare
for, and sympathize with, its humility : and
the result is, that each and every note has
a value in the position assigned to it, which,
by itself, it never possessed, and of which,
by separation from the others, it -would
instantly be deprived.
1 See farther, on this subject. Modern Painiers,
\^ol. iv, chap, viii, § 6.
184 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
Similarly, in a good poem, each word and
thought enhances the value of those which
precede and follow it ; and every syllable
has a loveliness which depends not so much
on its abstract sound as on its position.
Look at the same word in a dictionary, and
you will hardty recognize it.
Much more in a great picture ; every line
and colour is so arranged as to advantage
the rest. None are inessential, however
slight ; and none are independent, however
forcible. It is not enough that they truly
represent natural objects ; but they must
fit into certain places, and gather into cer-
tain harmonious groups : so that, for
instance, the red chimney of a cottage is
not merely set in its place as a chimney, but
that it may affect, in a certain way pleasur-
able to the eye, the pieces of green or blue in
other parts of the picture ; and we ought
to see that the work is masterly, merely by
the positions and quantities of these patches
of green, red, and blue, even at a distance
which renders it perfectly impossible to
determine what the colours represent : or
to see whether the red is a chimney, or an
old woman’s cloak ; and whether the blue
is smoke, sky, or water.
It seems to be appointed, in order to re-
mind us, in all we do, of the great laws of
Divine government and human polity, that
composition in the arts should strongly affect
every order of mind, however unlearned or
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 185
thoughtless. Hence the popular delight
in rhythm and metre, and in simple musical
melodies. But it is also appointed that
power of composition in the fine arts should
be an exclusive attribute of great intellect.
All men can more or less copy what they
see, and, more or less, remember it : powers
of reflection and investigation are also com-
mon to us all, so that the decision of infer-
iority in these rests only on questions of
degree has a better memory than B, and
C reflects more profoundly than D. But
the gift of composition is not given at all to
more than one man in a thousand ; in its
highest range, it does not occur above three
or four times in a century.
It follows, from these general truths, that
it is impossible to give rules which will enable
you to compose. You might much more
easily receive rules to enable you to be
witty. If it were possible to be witty by
rule, wit would cease to be either admirable
or amusing : if it were possible to compose
melody by rule, Mozart and Cimarosa need
not have been born: if it were possible to
compose pictures by rule, Titian and Veronese
would be ordinary men. The essence of
composition lies precisely in the fact of its
being unteachable, in its being tRe oper-
ation of an individual mind of range and
power exalted above others.
But though no one can invent by rule,
there are some simple laws of arrangement
1 86 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
which it is well for you to know, because,
though they will not enable you to produce
a good picture, they will often assist you to
set forth what goodness may be in your work
in a more telling way than you could have
done otherwise ; and by tracing them in the
work of good composers, you may better un-
derstand the grasp of their imagination, and
the power it possesses over their materials.
I shall briefly state the chief of these laws.
I. THE LAW OF PRINCIPALITY
The great object of composition being
always to secure unity ; that is, to make
out of many things one whole ; the first
mode in which this can be effected is, by
determining that one feature shall be more
important than all the rest, and that the
others shall group with it in subordinate
positions.
This is the simplest law of ordinary orna-
mentation. Thus the group of two leaves, a,
Fig. 31, is unsatisfactory, because it has no
leading leaf ; but that at h is prettier, be-
cause it has a head or master leaf ; and c
more satisfactoiy still, because the subordin-
ation of the other members to this head
leaf is made more manifest by their gradual
loss of size as they fall back from it. Hence
part of the pleasure we have in the Greek
honeysuckle ornament, and such others.
Thus, also, good pictures have always
one light larger or brighter than the other
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 187
lights, or one figure more prominent than
the other figures, or one mass of colour
dominant over all the other masses ; and in
general you will find it much benefit your
sketch if you manage that there shall be one
light on the cottage wall, or one blue cloud
in the sky, which may attract the eye as
leading light, or leading gloom, above all
others. But the observance of the rule is
often so cunningly concealed by the great
composers, that its force is hardly at first
traceable ; and you will generally find they
are vulgar pictures in which the law is
strikingly manifest. This may be simply
illustrated by musical melody ; for instance,
in such phrases as this :
it is very difficult to say which is the prin-
cipal note. The a in the last bar is slightly
“■h.h
>i- ‘‘ " ■
f '
f
!■: '
I ' '
r ;
■•I
issiiiifS:
iill
lllil
1 88 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
dominant, but there is a very equal current
of power running through the whole ; and
such passages rarely weary. And this prin-
ciple holds through vast scales of arrange-
ment ; so that in the grandest compositions,
such as Paul Veronese’s IMarriage in Cana,
or Raphael’s Disputa, it is not easy to fix
at once on the principal figure ; and very
commonly the figure which is really chief
does not catch the eye at first, but is gradu-
ally felt to be more and more conspicuous
as we gaze. Thus in Titian’s grand com-
position of the Cornaro Family, the figure
meant to be principal is a youth of fifteen
or sixteen, whose portrait it was evidently
the painter’s object to make as interesting
as possible. But a grand Madonna, and a
St George with a drifting banner, and
many figures more, occupy the centre of
the picture, and first catch the eye ; little
by little we are led away from them to a
gleam of pearly light in the lower corner,
and find that, from the head which it shines
upon, we can turn our eyes no more.
As, in every good picture, nearly all laws
of design are more or less exemplified, it
will, on the whole, be an easier way of ex-
plaining them to analyse one composition
thoroughly, than to give instances from
various works. I shall therefore take one
of Turner’s simplest ; which will allow us,
so to speak, easily to decompose it, and
illustrate each law by it as we proceed.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 189
j Fig. 32 is a rude sketch of the arrange-
I ment of the whole subject ; the old bridge
over the Moselle at Coblentz, the town of
j Coblentz on the right, Ehrenbreitstein on
1 the left. The leading or master feature is,
I of course, the tower on the bridge. It is
I kept from being too principal by an important
I group on each side of it ; the boats, on the
I right, and Ehrenbreitstein beyond. The
: boats are large in mass, and more forcible
I in colour, but they are broken into small
I divisions, while the tower is simple, and
I therefore it still leads. Ehrenbreitstein is
noble in its mass, but so reduced by aerial
perspective of colour that it cannot con-tend
! with the tower, which therefore holds the
j eye, and becomes the key of the picture. We
? shall see presently how the very objects
r which seem at first to contend with it for
the mastery are made, occultly, to increase
I its pre-eminence.
1
I 2, THE LAW OF REPETITION
S Another important means of expressing
I uniter is to mark some kind of sympathy
I among the difierent objects, and perhaps
the pleasantest, because most surprising,
kind of sympathy, is when one group imi-
tates or repeats another ; not in t&e way
of balance or symmetry, but subordinately,
like a far-away and broken echo of it.
' Front has insisted much on this law in all
\ his writings on composition ; and I think
i
190 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
it is even more authoritatively present
in the minds of most great composers than
the law of principality^. It is quite curious
to see the pains that Turner sometimes
takes to echo an important passage of
colour ; in the Pembroke Castle, for instance,
there are two fishing-boats, one with a
red, and another with a white sail. In
a line with them, on the beach, are two
fish in precisely the same relative positions ;
one red and one white. It is observable
that he uses the artifice chiefly in pictures
where he wishes to obtain an expression of
repose : in my notice of the plate of Scar-
borough, in the series of the Harbours of
England, I have already had occasion to
dwell on this point ; and I extract in the
note ® one or two sentences which explain
the principle. In the composition I have
chosen for our illustration, this redupli-
cation is employed to a singular extent.
The tower, or leading feature, is first re-
peated by the low echo of it to the left ;
put your finger over this lower tower, and
1 See Note 7, ia Appendix I.
^ *In general, throughout Nature, refiection and
repetition are peaceful things, associated with the
idea of quiet succession in events ; that one day
should be like another day, or one history the repeti-
tion of another history, being more or less results of
quietness, while dissimilarity and non-succession
are results of interference and disquietude. Thus,
though an echo actually increases the quantity of
sound heard, its repetition of the note or syllable
gives an idea of calmness attainable in no other
way ; hence also the feeling of calm given to a land-
scape by the voice of a cuckoo.’
see how the picture is spoiled. Then the
spires of Coblentz are all arranged in couples
(how they are arranged in reality does not
matter ; when we are composing a great
picture, we must play the towers about till
they come right, as fearlessly as if they were
chessmen instead of cathedrals). The dual
arrangement of these towers would have
been too easily seen, were it not for the
little one which pretends to make a triad
of the last group on the right, but is so faint
as hardly to be discernible : it just takes
off the attention from the artifice, helped in
doing so by the mast at the head of the boat,
which, however, has instantly its own dupli-
cate put at the stern. ^ Then there is the
large boat near, and its echo beyond it.
That echo is divided into two again, and
each of these two smaller boats has two
figures in it ; while two figures are also sit-
ting together on the great rudder that lies
half in the water and half aground. Then,
finally, the great mass of Ehrenbreitstein,
which appears at first to have no answering
form, has almost its facsimile in the bank
on which the girl is sitting ; this bank is
as absolutely essential to the completion of
the picture as any object in the whole series.
All this is done to deepen the effect oi repose.
^ This is obscure in the rude woodcut, the masts
being so delicate that they are confused among the
lines of reflection. In the original they have orange
light upon them, relieved against pu^le behind.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION igi
192 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [m
Symmetry, or the balance of parts or
masses in nearly equal opposition, is one of
the conditions of treatment under the law
of Repetition. For the opposition, in a
symmetrical object, is of like things reflect-
ing each other : it is not the balance of con-
trary natures (like that of day and night),
but of like natures or like forms one side
of a leaf being set like the reflection of the
other in water.
Symmetry in Nature is, however, never
formal nor accurate. She takes the great-
est care to secure some difference between
the corresponding things or parts of things ,
and an approximation to accurate symmetry
is only permitted in animals, because their
motions secure perpetual difference between
the balancing parts. Stand before a mirror ;
hold your arms in precisely the same posi-
tion at each side, your head upright, your
body straight ; divide your hair exactly in the
middle, and get it as nearly as you can into
exactly the same shape over each ear ;
and you will see the effect of accurate sym-
metry : you will see, no less, how all grace
and power in the human form result from
the interference of motion and life wnth
symmetry, and from the reconciliation of
its balance with its changefulness. Your
position, as seen in the mirror, is the highest
^pe of symmetry as understood by modem
3,T cbits cts •
In many sacred compositions, living sym-
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 193
metry, the balance of harmonious opposites,
is one of the profoundest sources of their
power : almost any works of the early paint-
ers, Angelico, Perugino, Giotto, etc., will
furnish you with notable instances of it.
The Madonna of Perugino in the National
Gailer\^, with the angel Michael on one side
and Raphael on the other, is as beautiful an
example as you can have.
In landscape, the principle of balance is
more or less carried out, in proportion to the
wish of the painter to express disciplined
calmness. In bad compositions, as in bad
architecture, it is formal, a tree on one side
answering a tree on the other ; but in good
compositions, as in graceful statues, it is
always easy, and sometimes hardly trace-
able. In the Coblentz, however, you cannot
have much difficulty in seeing how the boa,ts
on one side of the tower and the figures on
the other are set in nearly equal balance :
the tower, as a central mass, uniting both.
3. THE LAW OF CONTINUITY
Another important and pleasurable way
of expressing uniter, is by giving some orderly
succession to a number of objects more or
less similar. And this succession is most
interesting when it is connected with some
gradual change in the aspect or character
of the objects. Thus the succession of the
pillars of a cathedral aisle is most interesting
o
194 ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
when they retire in perspective, becoming
more and more obscure in distance : so the
succession of mountain promontories one
behind another, on the flanks of a valley ;
so the succession of clouds, fading farther
and father towards the horizon ; each pro-
montory and each cloud being of different
shape, yet all evidently following in a calm
and appointed order. If there be no change
at all in the shape or size of the objects,
there is no continuity ; there is only repe-
tition — monotony. It is the change in
shape which suggests the idea of their being
individually free, and able to escape, if they
liked, from the law that rules them, and
yet submitting to it. I will leave our chosen
illustrative composition for a moment to
take up another, still more expressive of
this law. It is one of Turner’s most tender
studies, a sketch on Calais Sands at sunset ; so
delicate in the expression of wave and cloud,
that it is of no use for me to try to reach
it with any kind of outline in a woodcut ;
but the rough sketch, Fig. 33, is enough to
give an idea of its arrangement. The aim
of the painter has been to give the intensest
expression of repose, together with the en-
chanted, lulling, monotonous motion of
cloud and wave. All the clouds are moving
in innumerable ranks after the sun, meeting
towards the point in the horizon where he
has set ; and the tidal waves gain in wind-
ing currents upon the sand, with that stealthy
haste in which they cross each other so
quietly, at their edges ; just folding one
over another as they meet, like a little piece
of ruffled silk, and leaping up a little as two
children kiss and clap their hands, and then
going on again, each in its silent hurry,
drawing pointed arches on the sand as their
thin edges intersect in parting : but all
this would not have been enough expressed
without the line of the old pier-timbers,
black with weeds, strained and bent by the
storm waves, and now seeming to stoop in
following one another, like dark ghosts
escaping slowly from the cruelty of the
pursuing sea.
I need not, I hope, point out to the reader
the illustration of this law of continuance in
the subject chosen for our general illustra-
tion. It was simply that gradual succes-
sion of the retiring arches of the bridge
which induced Turner to paint the subject
at all ; and it was this same principle which
led him always to seize on subjects including
long bridges wherever he could find them ;
but especially, observe, unequal bridges,
having the highest arch at one side rather
than at the centre. There is a reason for
this, irrespective of general laws of compo-
sition, and connected with the nature of
rivers, which I may as well stop a minute
to tell you about, and let you rest from the
study of composition.
All rivers, small or large, agree in one
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 195
196 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
character, they like to lean a little on one
side : they cannot bear to have their chan-
nels deeiDCstin the middle, but will always,
if they can, have one bank to snn themselves
upon, and another to get cool under ; one
shingly shore to play over, where they may
be shallow, and foolish, and childlike, and
another steep shore, under which the}^ can
pause, and purify themselves, and get their
krength of waves fully together for due occa-
sion. Rivers in this way are just like wise
men, who keep one side of their life for play,
and another for work, and can be brilli-
ant, and chattering, and transparent, when
they are at ease, and yet take deep counsel
on the other side when they set themselves
to their main purpose. And rivers are just
in this divided, also, like wicked and good
men : the good rivers have serviceable deep
places all along their banks, that ships can
sail in ; but the wicked rivers go scooping
irregularly under their banks until they get
full^of strangling eddies, which no boat can
row over without being twisted against the
rocks ; and pools like wells, which no one
can get out of but the water-kelpie that
lives at the bottom ; but, wicked or good,
the rivers all agree in having two kinds of
sides. Now the natural way in which a
village stone-mason therefore throws a bridge
over a strong stream is, of course, to build
a great door to let the cat through, and little
doors to let the kittens through; a great
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 197
arch for the great current, to give it room in
flood time, and little arches for the little
currents along the shallow shore. This,
even without any prudential respect for the
floods of the great current, he would do in
simple economy of work and stone ; for
the smaller your arches are, the less material
you want on their flanks. Two arches over
the same span of river, supposing the hut-
ments are at the same depth, are cheaper
than one, and that by a great deal ; so that,
where the current is shallow, the village
mason makes his arches many and low : as
the water gets deeper, and it becomes trouble-
some to build his piers up from the bottom,
he throws his arches wider ; at last he comes
to the deep stream, and, as he cannot build
at the bottom of that, he throws his largest
arch over it with a leap, and with another
little one or so gains the opposite shore.
Of course as arches are wider they must be
higher, or they will not stand ; so the road-
way must rise as the arches widen. And
thus we have the general type of bridge,
with its highest and widest arch towards
one side, and a train of minor arches running
over the flat shore on the other : usually a
steep bank at the river-side next the large
arch ; always, of course, a flat shore on the
side of the small ones : and the bend of the
river assuredly concave towards this fiat,
cutting round, with a sw’eep into the steep
bank ; or, if there is no steep bank, still
198 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [ni
assuredly cutting into the shore at the steep
end of the bridge.
Now this kind of bridge, sympathising,
as it does, with the spirit of the river,
and marking the nature of the thing
it has to deal mth and conquer, is the
ideal of a bridge ; and all endeavours to
do the thing in a grand engineer’s manner,
with a level roadway and equal arches, are
barbarous ; not only because all monoton-
ous forms are ugly in themselves, but be-
cause the mind perceives at once that there
has been cost uselessly thrown away for the
sake of formality K
1 The cost of art in getting a bridge level is always
lost, for you must get up to the height of the central
arch at any rate, and you only can make the whole
bridge level by putting the hill farther back, and
pretending to have got rid of it when you have not,
but have only w^asted money in building an unneces-
sary embankment. Of course, the bridge should
not be difficultly or dangerously steep, but the neces-
sary slope, whatever it may be, should be in the
bridge itself, as far as the bridge can take it, and not
pushed aside into the approach, as in our Waterloo
road ; the only rational excuse for doing which is
that when the slope must be long it is inconvenient
to put on a drag at the top of the bridge, and that
any restiveness of the horse is more dangerous on
the bridge than on the embankment. To this I
answer • first, it is not more dangerous in reality,
though it looks so, for the bridge is always guarded
by an effective parapet, but the embankment is sure
to have no parapet, or only a useless rail ,* and
secondly, that it is better to have the slope on the
bridge and make the roadway wide in proportion,
so as to be quite safe, because a little waste of space
on the river is no loss, but your wide embankment
at the side loses good ground ; and so my picturesque
bridges are right as well as beautiful, and I hope to
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 199
Well, to retiira to our continuity. ^ We. see
that the Turnerian bridge in Fig. 32 is of the
absolutely perfect type, and is still farther in-
teresting by having its main arch crowned by
a watch-tower. But as I want you to note
especially what perhaps was not the case in
the real bridge, but is entirely Turner’s
doing, you will find that though the arches
diminish gradually, not one is regularly
diminished — ^they are aU of different shapes
and sizes ; you cannot see this clea,rly in
Fig 32, but in the larger diagram, Fig. 34»
you will with ease. This is indeed also part
of the ideal of a bridge, because the lateral
currents near the shore are of course irregular
in size, and a simple builder would naturally
vary his arches accordingly ; _ and also, if
the bottom was rocky, build his piers where
the rocks came. But it is not as a part of
bridge ideal, but as a necessity of all noble
composition, that this irregularity is intro-
duced by Turner. It at once raises the
object thus treated from the lower or vulgar
unity of rigid law to the greater umty of
clouds, and waves, and trees, and
souls, each different, each obedient, and each
in harmonious service.
4. THE LAW OF CURVATURE
There is, however, another point to be
them built again some day instead of the bright-
engineering mind.
200 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
noticed in this bridge of Turner’s. Not only
does it slope away unequally at its sides,
but it slopes in a gradual though very subtle
curve. And if you substitute a straight line
for this curve (drawing one with a rule from
the base of the tower on each side to the
ends of the bridge, in Fig. 34, and effacing the
curve), you ^vill instantly see that the design
has suffered grievously. You may ascer-
tain, by experiment, that all beautiful ob-
jects whatsoever are thus terminated by
delicately curved lines, except where the
straight line is indispensable to their use or
stability ; and that when a complete system
of straight lines, throughout the form, is
necessary to that stability, as in crystals,
the beauty, if any exists, is in colour and
transparency, not in form. Cut out the
shape of any crystal you like, in white wax
or wood, and put it beside a white lily, and
you will feel the force of the curvature in its
purity, irrespective of added colour, or other
interfering elements of beauty.
Well, as curves are more beautiful than
straight lines, it is necessary to a good
composition that its continuities of object,
mass, or colour should be, if possible, in
curves, rather than straight lines or angular
ones. Perhaps one of the simplest and
prettiest examples of a graceful continuity
of this kind is in the line traced at any
moment by the corks of a net as it is being
drawn : nearly ever>^ person is more or less
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 201
attracted by the beauty of the dotted line.
Now it is almost always possible, not only to
secure such a continuity in the arrange-
ment or boundaries of objects which, like
these bridge arches or the corks of the net,
are actually connected with each other,
but — and this is a still more noble and inter-
esting kind of continuity — among features
which appear at first entirely separate. Thus
the towers of Ehrenbreitstein, on the left,
in Fig. 32, appear at first independent of
each other ; but when I give their profile, on
a larger scale. Fig. 35, the reader may easily
perceive that there is a subtle cadence and
harmony among them. The reason of this is,
that they are all bounded by one grand curve,
traced by the dotted line ; out of the seven
towers, four precisely touch this cur\^e, the
others only falling back from it here and there
to keep the eye from discovering it too easily.
And it is not only always possible to ob-
tain continuities of this kind : it is, in draw-
ing large forest or mountain forms, essential
to truth. The towers of Ehrenbreitstein
might or might not in reality fail into such
a curve, but assuredly the basalt rock on
which they stand did ; for all mountain
forms not cloven into absolute precipice, nor
covered by straight slopes of shales, are
more or less governed by these great curves,
it being one of the aims of Nature in all her
work to produce them. The reader must
already know this, if he has been able to
202 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
sketch at all among mountains ; if not, let
him merely draw for himself, carefully, the
outlines of any low hills accessible to him,
where they are tolerably steep, or of the woods
which grow on them. The steeper shore of
the Thames at Maidenhead, or any of the
downs at Brighton or Dover, or, even
nearer, about Croydon (as Addington Hills),
are easily accessible to a Londoner ; and he
will soon find not only how constant, but
how graceful the curvature is. Graceful
curvature is distinguished from ungraceful
by two characters : first, its moderation,
that is to say, its close approach to straight-
ness in some part of its course ^ ; and,
secondly, by its variation, that is to say, its
never remaining equal in degree at different
parts of its course.
This variation is itself twofold in all good
curves.
A. There is, first, a steady change through
the whole line, from less to more curvature,
or more to less, so that no part of the line is a
segment of a circle, or can be drawn by com-
passes in any way whatever. Thus, in Fig.
36, a is a bad curve, because it is part of a
circle, and is therefore monotonous through-
out ; but & is a good curve, because it con-
tinually changes its direction as it proceeds.
1 I cannot waste space here by reprinting what I
have said in other books : but the reader ought, if
possible, to refer to the notices of this part of oiir
subject in Modem Painters^ vol. iv, chap, xvii ; and
Stones of Venice^ vol. xii, chap, i, § 8.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 20$
The prst difference between good and bad-
drawing of tree boughs consists in observ-
ance of this fact. Thus, when I put leaves
on the line h, as in Fig. 37, you can immedi-
ately feel the springiness of character depen-
dent on the changefulness of the curve. You
may put leaves on the other line for your-
self, but you will find 3"ou cannot make a
right tree-spray of it. For all tree boughs,
large or small, as well as all noble natural
lines whatsoever, agree in this character ;
and it is a point of primal necessity that your
eye should always seize and your hand trace
it. Flere are two more portions of good
curves, with leaves put on them at the extre-
mities instead of the flanks, Fig. 38 ; and
two showing the arrangement of masses of
foliage seem a little farther ofi. Fig. 39,
which you may in like manner amuse your-
self by turning into segments of circles —
you will see with what result. I hope how-
ever you have beside you,, by this time,
many good studies of tree boughs carefully
made, in which you may study variations
of curvature in their most complicated and
lovely forms
B. Not only does every good curve vary in
general tendency, but it is modulated, as it
3- If you happen to be reading at this part of the
book, without having gone through any previous
practice, turn back to the sketch of the ramification
of stone pine, Fig. 4, and examine the curves of its
boughs one by one, trying them by the conditions
here stated under the heads A and B.
204 THE ELEMENTS OF DRA WING [iir
proceeds, by myriads of subordinate curves.
Thus the outlines of a tree trunk are never
as at a, Fig. 40, but as at h. So also in waves,
clouds, and all other nobly formed masses.
Thus another essential difference between
good and bad drawing^ or good and bad
sculpture, depends on the quantity and
refinement of minor curvatures carried, by
good work, into the great lines. Stricth/
speaking, however, this is not variation in
large curves, but composition of large curves
out of small ones ; it is an increase in the
quantity of the beautiful element, but not a
change in its nature.
5. THE LAW OF RADIATION
We have hitherto been concerned only
with the binding of our various objects into
beautiful lines or processions. The next point
we have to consider is, how we may unite
these lines or processions themselves, so as
to make groups of them.
Now, there are two kinds of harmonies
of lines. One in which, moving more or less
side by side, they variously, but evidently
with consent, rethre from or approach each
other, intersect or oppose each other : cur-
rents of melody in music, for different voices,
thus approach and cross, fall and rise,
in harmony ; so the waves of the sea, as they
approach the shore, flow into one another
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 20^
or cross, but with a great unity through all ;
and so %^arious lines of composition often
flow harmoniously through and across
each other in a picture. But the most
simple and perfect connexion of lines is by
radiation ; that is, by their all springing from
one point, or closing towards it : and this
harmony is often, in Nature almost always,
united with the other; as the boughs of
trees, though they intersect and play amongst
each other irregularly, indicate by their
general tendency their origin from one root.
An essential part of the beauty of all veget-
able form is in this radiation : it is seen
most simply in a single flower or leaf, as in a
convolvulus bell, or chestnut leaf ; but
more beautifully in the complicated arrange-
ments of the large boughs and sprays. For
a leaf is only a fiat piece of radiation ; but
the tree throws its branches on all sides,
and even in every profile view of it, which
presents a radiation more or less correspond-
ent to that of its leaves, it is more beautiful,
because varied by the freedom of the separ-
ate branches. I believe it has been ascer-
tained that, in all trees, the angle at which,
in their leaves, the lateral ribs are set on their
central rib is approximately the same at
which the branches leave the great stem ;
and thus each section of the tree would
present a kind of magnified view of its own
leaf, were it not for the interfering force of
gravity on the masses of foliage. This
206 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iix
force in proportion to their age, and the
lateral leverage upon them, bears them
downwards at the extremities, so that, as
before noticed, the lower the bough grows on
the stem, the more it droops (Fig. 17) ; be-
sides this, nearly all beautiful trees have a
tendency to divide into two or more principal
masses, which give a prettier and more com-
plicated symmetry than if one stem ran all
the way up the centre. Fig. 41 may thus
be considered the simplest t5rpe of tree radi-
ation, as opposed to leaf radiation. In
this figure, however, all secondary ramifi-
cation is unrepresented, for the sake of
simplicity ; but if we take one half of such
a tree, and merely give two secondary
branches to each main branch (as represented
in the general branch structure sho'wn at b,
Fig. 18), we shall have the form, Fig. 42.
This I consider the perfect general type
of tree structure ; and it is curiously con-
nected with certain forms of Greek, By-
zantine, and Gothic ornamentation, into the
discussion of w^hich, however, we must not
enter here. It will be observed, that both
in Figures 41 and 42 aU the branches so
spring from the main stem as very nearly to
suggest their united radiation from the
root R. This is by no means universally the
case ; but if the branches do not bend to-
wards a point in the root, they at least con-
verge to some point or other. In the exam-
ples in Fig. 43 the mathematical centre of
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 207
cur\?-atiire, a, is thus, in one case, on the
ground at some distance from the root, and in
the other, near the top of the tree. Half,
only, of each tree is given, for the sake of
clearness : Fig. 44 gives both sides of an-
other example, in which the origins of curv-
ature are below the root. As the positions
of such points may be varied without end,
and as the arrangement of the lines is also
farther complicated by the fact of the boughs
springing for the most part in a spiral order
round the tree, and at proportionate dis-
tances, the systems of curvature which re-
gulate the form of vegetation are quite in-
finite. Infinite is a word easily said, and
easily written, and people do not always mean
it when they say it ; in this case I do mean
it : the number of systems is incalculable,
and even to furnish anything like a represen-
tative number of types, I should have to
give several hundreds of figures such as
Fig. 44 h
Thus far, however, we have only been
speaking of the great relations of stem and
branches. The forms of the branches them-
selves are regulated by still more subtle laws,
for they occupy an intermediate position
between the form of the tree and of the leaf.
The leaf has a fiat ramification ; the tree
a completely rounded one; the bough is
i The reader, I hope, observes always that every
line in these figures is itself one of varying curvatur^
and cannot be drawn by compasses.
20S THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
neither rounded nor flat, but has a structure
exactly balanced between the two, in a half-
flattened, half-rounded flake, closely re-
sembling in shape one of the thick leaves of
an artichoke or the flake of a fir cone ; by
combina;tion forming the solid mass of the
tree, as the leaves compose the artichoke
head. I have before pointed out to you the
general resemblance of these branch flakes
to an extended hand ; but they may be
more accurately represented by the ribs of
a boat. If you can imagine a very broad-
headed and flattened boat applied by its
keel to the end of a main branch^, as in
Fig. 45, the lines which its ribs will take, and
the general contour of it, as seen in different
directions, from above and below, and
from one side and another, will give you the
closest approximation to the perspectives
and foreshortenings of a well-grown branch-
flake. Fig. 25 is an unharmed and unre-
strained shoot of healthy young oak ; and,
if you compare it with Fig. 45, you will
understand at once the action of the lines
of leafage ; the boat only failing as a type
in that its ribs are too nearly parallel to each
i I hope the reader understands that these wood-
cuts are merely facsimilies of the sketches I make
at the side of my paper to illustrate my meaning as
I write — often sadly scrawled if' I want to get on to
something else. This one is really a little too care-
less ; but it would take more time and trouble to
make a proper drawing of so odd a boat than the
matter is worth. It will answer the purpose well
enough as it is.,
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 209
other at the sides, while the bough sends
all its ramification well forwards, rounding
to the head, that it may accomphsh its part
in the outer form of the whole tree, yet
always securing the compliance with the
great universal law that the branches nearest
the root bend most back ; and, of course,
throwing some always back as well as for-
wards ; the appearance of reversed action be-
ing much increased, and rendered more strik-
ing and beautiful, by perspective. Fig. 25
shows the perspective of such a bough as
it is seen from below ; Fig 46 gives rudely
the look it would have from above.
You may suppose, if you have not already
discovered, what subtleties of perspective
and light and shade are involved in the
drawing of these branch-fiakes, as 3"ou see
them in different directions and actions ;
now raised, now depressed ; touched on the
edges by the mnd, or lifted up and bent
back so as to show all the white under sur-
faces of the leaves shivering in light, as the
bottom of a boat rises white with spray at
the surge-crest ; or drooping in quietness
towards the dew of the grass beneath them
in windless mornings, or bowled down under
oppressive grace of deep-charged snow.
Snow time, by the way, is one of the best
for practice in the placing of tree masses ;
but you -will only be able to understand
them thoroughly by beginning with a single
.'bough . and a few . leaves .placed tolerabhr
■ : P
210 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
even, as in Fig. 38. First one with three
leaves, a central and two lateral ones, as at
a ; then with five, as at h, and so on ; direct-
ing yonr whole attention to the expression,
both by contour and light and shade, of the
boat-like arrangements, which, in your
earlier studies, will have been a good deal
confused, partly owing to your inexperience,
and partly to the depth of shade, or absolute
blackness of mass required in those studies.
One thing more remains to be noted, and
I will let you out of the wood. You see
that in every generally representative figure
I have surrounded the radiating branches
with a dotted line : such lines do indeed
terminate every vegetable form ; and you
see that they are themselves beautiful
curves, which, according to their flow, and
the width or narrowness of the spaces they
enclose, characterize the species of tree or
leaf, and express its free or formal action,
its grace of youth or vreight of age. So that,
throughout all the freedom of her wildest
foliage. Nature is resolved on expressing
an encompassing limit ; and marking a unity
in the whole tree, caused not only by the
rising of its branches from a common root,
but by their joining in one work, and being
bound by a common law. And having
ascertained this, let us turn back for a
moment to a point in leaf structure which,
I doubt not, you must already have obser^^ed
in your earlier studies, but which it is well
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 21 1
I to state here, as connected with the unity
of the branches in the great trees. You
must have noticed, I should think, that
whenever a leaf is compound — that is to
say, divided into other leaflets which in any 'i
way repeat or imitate the form of the whole
leaf — those leaflets are not symmetrical, as J;'
the whole leaf is, but always smaller on the
side towards the point of the great leaf, so
as to express their subordination to it, and
show, even when they are pulled off, that
they are not small independent leaves, but
members of one large leaf.
Fig. 47, which is a block-plan of a leaf of
columbine, without its minor divisions on
the edges, will illustrate the principle clearly.
It is composed of a central large mass, A,
and two lateral ones, of which the one on
the right only is lettered, B. Each of these .
masses is again composed of three others, | ;
a central and two lateral ones ; but observe, ^ i
the minor one, a of A, is balanced equally
b)?- its opposite ; but the minor 6 i of B is |
larger than its opposite h 2. Again, each |/1
of these minor masses is divided into three ; |; |
i but while the central mass, a of A, is sym- j
I metrically divided, the b of B is unsym- i j
I metrical, its largest side-lobe being lowest. I! I
! Again in 6 2, the lobe c i (its lowest lobe in ^ ■
relation to b) is larger than 2 ; and so also ^
in h 1. So that universall37 one lobe of a !;|
lateral leaf is always larger than the other,
and the smaller lobe is that which is nearer j|j
212 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
the central mass ; the lower leaf, as it were
by courtesy, subduing some of its own
dignity or power, in the immediate presence
of the greater or captain leaf ; and always
expressing, therefore, its own subordination
and secondary character. This law is
carried out even in single leaves. As far as
I know, the upper half, towards the point
of the spray, is always the smaller ; and a
slightly different curve, more convex at the
springing, is used for the lower side, giving
an exquisite variety to the form of the whole
leaf ; so that one of the chief elements in
the beauty of every subordinate leaf through-
out the tree, is made to depend on its con-
fession of its own lowliness and subjection.
And now, if we bring together in one
view the principles we have ascertained in
trees, we shall find they may be summed
under four great laws ; and that all perfect ^
vegetable form is appointed to express
these four laws in noble balance of authority :
1. Support from one living root.
2. Radiation, or tendency of force from
some one given point, either in the root, or
in some stated connexion with it.
^ Imperfect vegetable form I consider that which
is in its nature dependent, as in runners and climbers ;
or which is susceptible of continual injur}^ without
materially losing the power of giving pleasure by its
aspect, as in the case of the smaller passes. I have
not, of course, space here to explain these minor
distinctions, but the laws above stated apply to all
the more important trees and shrubs likely to be
familiar to the student.
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 213
3. Liberty of each, bough, to seek its own
livelihood and happiness according to its
needs, by irregularities of action both in its
play and its work, either stretching out to
get its required nourishment from light and
rain, by finding some sufficient breathing-
place among the other branches, or knotting
and gathering itself up to get strength for
a.ny load which its fruitful blossoms may
lay upon it, and for any stress of its storm-
tossed luxuriance of leaves ; or piaffing
hither and thither as the fitful sunshine ma3^
tempt its young shoots, in their undecided
states of mind about their future life.
4. Imperative requirement of each bough
to stop within certain limits, expressive of
its kindly fellowship and fraternity with
the boughs in its neighbourhood ; and to
work with them according to its power,
magnitude, and state of health, to bring out
the general perfectness of the great curve,
and circumferent stateliness of the whole tree.
I think I may leave you, unhelped, to
work out the moral analogies of these laws ;
you may, perhaps, however, be a little
puzzled to see the meaning of the second
one. It typically expresses that healthy
human actions should spring radiantly (like
rays) from some single heart motive ; the
most beautiful systems of action taking
place when this motive lies at the root of
the whole life, and the action is clearly seen
to proceed from it ; while also many beau-
214 the elements of drawing [hi
tiful secondary systems of action taking
place from motives not so deep or central,
but in some beautiful subordinate con-
nexion witli the central or life motive.
The other laws, if you think over them,
you will find equally significative ; and as
you draw trees more and more in their
various states of health and hardship, you
will be ever^’' day more struck by the beauty
of the types they present of the truths most
essential for mankind to know ^ ; and you
will see what this vegetation of the earth,
which is necessary to our life, first, as puri-
fying the air for us and then as food, and
just as necessary to our joy in all places of
the earth — what these trees and leaves, I
sa}^ are meant to teach us as we contemplate
them, and read or hear their lovely language,
1 There is a very tender lesson of this kind in the
shadows of leaves upon the ground ; shadows which
are the most likely of all to attract attention, by
their pretty play' and change. If you examine
them, you 'will find that the shadows do not take
the forms of the leaves, but that, through each inter-
stice, the light falls, at a little distance, in the form
of a round or oval spot ; that is to say, it produces
the image of the sun itself, cast either vertically or
obliquely, in circle or ellipse according to the slope
of the ground. Of course the sun’s rays produce the
same effect, when they fall through any small aper-
ture : but the openings between leaves are the only
ones likely to show it to an ordinary observer, or to
attract his attention to it by its frequency, and
lead him to think what this type may signify respect-
ing the greater Sun ; and how it may show us that,
even when the opening through which the earth
receives light is too small to let us see the Sun him-
self, the ray of light that enters, if it comes straight
from Him, will still bear with it His image.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 215
written or spoken for ns, not in frightful
black letters, nor in dull sentences, but in
fair green and shadowy shapes of waving
words, and blossomed brightness of odor-
iferous wit, and sweet whispers of unintrusive
wisdom, and playful morality.
Well, I am sorry myself to leave the wood
whatever my reader may be ; but leave it
we must, or we shall compose no more
pictures to-day.
This law of radiation, then, enforcing
unison of action in arising from, or proceed-
ing to, some given point, is perhaps, of all
principles of composition, the most in-
huential in producing the beauty of groups
of form. Other laws make them forcible
or interesting, but this generally is chief in
rendering them beautiful. In the arrange-
ment of masses in pictures, it is constantly
obeyed by the great composers ; but, like
the law of principality, with careful con-
cealment of its imperativeness, the point
to which the lines of main curvature are
directed being very often far awa^^ out of
the picture. Sometimes, however, a system
of curves will be employed definitely to
exalt by their concurrence the value of
some leading object, and then the law be-
comes traceable enough.
In the instance before us, the principal
object being, as we have seen, the tower on
the bridge, Turner has determined that his
system of curvature should have its oiigin
2i6 the elements OF DRAWING [m
in the top of this tower. The diagram i*ig.
34, compared with Fig. 32. show how
this is done. One curve joins the two
towers, and is continued by the back of the
figure sitting on the bank into the piece of
bent timber. This is a limiting curve of
oreat importance, and Turner has drawn a
considerable part of it with the edge of the
timber very carefully, and then led the eye
up to the sitting girl by some wliite spots
and indications of a ledge in the bank ; then
the passage to the tops of the towers cannot
be missed.
The next curve is begun and drawn care-
fully for half an inch of its course by the
rudder ; it is then taken up by the basket
and the heads of the figures, and leads
accurately to the tower angle. The gun-
wales of both the boats begin the next two
curves, which meet in the same point ; and
all are centralized by the long reflection
which continues the vertical lines.
Subordinated to this first system of
curves there is another, begun by the small
crossing bar of wood inserted in the angle
behind the rudder ; continued by the
bottom of the bank on which the figure sits,
interrupted forcibly beyond it 1, but taken
1 In the smaller figure (32), it will be seen that
this interruption is caused by a cart coming down to
the water’s edge ; and this object is serviceable as
beginning another system of curves leading out of
the picture on the right, but so obscurely drawn as
not to be easily represented in outline. As it is
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 217
up again by the water-line leading to the
bridge foot, and passing on in delicate
shadows under the arches, not easily sho^'vui
in so rude a diagram, towards the other ex-
tremity of the bridge. This is a most im-
portant curve, indicating that the force and
sweep of the river have indeed been in old
times under the large arches ; while the
antiquity of the bridge is told us by the long
tongue of land, either of carted rubbish, or
washed down by some minor stx*eam, which
has interrupted this curve, and is now used
as a landing-place for the boats, and for
embarkation of merchandise, of which some
bales and bundles are laid in a heap, imme-
diately beneath the great tower. A common
composer would have put these bales to one
side or the other, but Turner knows better ;
he uses them as a foundation for his tower,
adding to its importance precisely as the
sculptured base adorns a pillar ; and he
farther increases the aspect of its height by
throwing the reflection of it far down in
the nearer water. All the great composers
have this same feeling about sustaining
their vertical masses : you will constantly
find Prout using the artifice most dexter-
ously (see, for instance, the figure with the
wheelbarrow under the great tower, in the
sketch of St Nicolas, at Prague, and the
imaecessary to the explanation of our point here,
it has been omitted in the larger diagram, the direc-
tion of the curve it begins being indicated by the
dashes only.
2i8 the elements OF DRAWING [iii
■white group of figures under the tower in
the sketch of Augsburg i) ; and Veronese,
Titian, and Tintoret continually put their
principal figures at bases of pillars. Turner
found out their secret very early, the most
prominent instance of his composi-tion on
this principle being the drawing of Turin
from the Superga, in Hakewell’s Itaty.
chose Fig. 20, already given to iUustrate
foliage drawing, chiefly because, being
another instance of precisely the same
arrangement, it wiU serve to convince you
of its being intentional. There, the verti-
cal, formed by the larger tree, is continued
by the figure of the farmer, and that of one
of the smaller trees by his stick. The hnes
of the interior mass of the bushes radiate,
under the law of radiation, from a pomt
behind the farmer’s head ; but their outline
curves are carried on and repeated, under
the law of continuity, by the curves of the
dog and boy — by the way, note the remark-
able instance in these of the use of darkest
lines towards the light ; — all more or less
guiding the eye up to the right, in order to
bring it finally to the Keep of Windsor,
which is the central object of the picture,
as the bridge tower is in the Coblentz. The
wall on which the boy climbs answers the
purpose of contrasting, both in direction
and character, with these greater curves ;
thus corresponding as nearly as possible to
1 Both m the Sketches in Flanders and Germany.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 219
the minor tongue of land in the Coblentz.
This, however, introduces us to another
law, which we must consider separately.
6. THE LAW OF CONTRAST
Of course the character of everything is
best manifested by Contrast. Rest can
only be enjoyed after labour ; sound, to be
heard clearly, must rise out of silence ; light
is exhibited by darkness, darkness by light ;
and so on in all things. Now in art every
colour has an opponent colour, which, if
brought near it, will relieve it more com-
pietely than any other ; so, also, every
form and line may be made more striking
to the eye by an opponent form or line near
them ; a curved line is set off by a straight
one, a massy form by a slight one, and so
on ; and in all good work nearly double the
value, which any given colour or form would
have uncombined, is given to each, by
contrast
In this case again, however, a too manifest
use of the artifice vulgarizes a picture.
Great painters do not commonly, or very
visibly, admit violent contrast. They intro-
duce it by stealth, and with intermediate
links of tender change ; allowing, indeed,
1 If you happen to meet with the plate of Diirer’s
representing a coat of arms with a skull in the shield,
note the value given to the concave curves and
sharp point of the helmet by the convex leafage
carried round it in front ; and the use of the blank
white part of the shield in opposing the rich folds of
the dress.
220 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
the opposition to tell upon the mind as a
surprise, but not as a shock
Thus in the rock of Ehrenbreitstein, Fig.
35 , the main current of the lines being
downwards, in a convex swell, they are
suddenly stopped at the lowest tower by a
counter series of beds, directed nearly
straight across them. This adverse force
sets off and relieves the great curvature, but
it is reconciled to it by a series of radiating
lines below, which at first sympathize with
the oblique bar, then gradually get steeper,
till they meet and join in the fall of the
great curve. No passage, however in-
tentionally monotonous, is ever introduced
by a good artist without some slight counter
current of this kind ; so much, indeed, do
the great composers feel the necessity of it,
that they will even do things purposely ill
or unsatisfactorily, in order to give greater
value to their well-doing in other places. In
a skilful poet’s versification the so-called
bad or inferior lines are not infeiior because
he could not do them better, but because
he feels that if all were equally weighty,
there would be no real sense of weight any-
where ; if all were equally melodious, the
melody itself would be fatiguing ; and he
purposely introduces the labouring or dis-
i Turner hardly ever, as far as I remember, allows
a strong light to oppose a full dark, without some
intervening tint. His suns never set behind dark
mountains without a film of cloud above the moun-
tain’s edge.
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 221
cordant verse, that the full ring may he felt
in his main sentence, and the finished sweet-
ness in his chosen rhythm And continu-
ally in painting, inferior artists destroy
their work by giving too much of all that
they think is good, while the great painter
gives just enough to be enjoyed, and passes
to an opposite kind of enjoyment, or to an
inferior state of enjoyment : he gives a
passage of rich, involved, exquisitely wrought
colour, then passes away into slight, and
pale, and simple colour ; he paints for a
minute or two with intense decision, then
suddenly becomes, as the spectator thinks,
slovenly ; but he is not slovenly : you
could not have taken any more decision
from him just then ; you have had as much
as is good for you ; he paints over a great
space of his picture forms of the most
rounded and melting tenderness, and sud-
denly, as you think by a freak, gives you a
bit as jagged and sharp as a leafless black-
thorn. Perhaps the most exquisite piece
of subtle contrast in the world of painting
is the arrow point, laid sharp against the
white side and among the flowing hair of
Correggio’s Antiope. It is quite singular
^ A prudent chief not always must display
His powers in. equal ranks and fair array.
But with the occasion and the place compl3%
Conceal his force ; nay, seem sometimes to fly.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem.
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Essay on Cfiticism,
222 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
how very little contrast will sometimes
serve to make an entire group of forms
interesting which would otherwise have
been valueless. There is a good deal of pic-
turesque material, for instance, in this top
of an old tower, Fig. 48, tiles and stones
and sloping roof not disagreeabi}^ mingled ;
but all would have been unsatisfactory
if there had not happened to be that iron
ring on the inner wall, which by its vigorous
black cifcular line precisely opposes all the
square and angular characters of the battle-
ments and roof. Draw the tower without
the ring, and see what a difference it will
make.
One of the most important applications
of the law of contrast is in association with
the law of continuity, causing an unexpected
but gentle break in a continuous series.
This artifice is perpetual in music, and per-
petual also in good illumination ; the way
in which little surprises of change are
prepared in any current borders, or chains
of ornamental design, being one of the most
subtle characteristics of the work of the good
periods. We take, for instance, a bar of
ornament between two written columns of
an early 14th century MS., and at the first
glance we suppose it to be quite monotonous
all the way up, composed of a winding
tendril, with alternately a blue leaf and a
scarlet bud. Presently, however, we see
that, in order to observe the Taw of princi-
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 223
pality, there is one large scarlet leaf instead
of a bud, nearly half-way up, Thich forms
a centre to the whole rod ; and when we
begin to examine the order of the leaves, we
find it varied carefully. Let a stand for
scarlet bud, h for blue leaf, c for two blue
leaves on one stalk, s for a stalk without a
leaf, and R for the large red leaf. Then,
counting from the ground, the order begins
as follows :
6, h, A ; 6, s, 6, A ; 6, 6, a ; h, h, a ; and
we think we shall have two 6’s and an a all
the way, when suddenly it becomes b, a ;
R ; 6, A ; 6, a ; &, A ; and we think we
are going to have h, a continued ; but no :
here it becomes 6, s ; b, s ; b, a ; b, s ; b, s ;
Cf s ; b, s ; b, s ; and we think we are surely
going to have b, s continued, but behold it
runs away to the end with a quick b, h, a ;
h, b, b, & ! ^ Very often, however, the
designer is satisfied with one surprise, but I
never saw a good illuminated border without
one at least ; and no series of any kind is
ever introduced by a great composer in a
painting without a snap somewhere. There
is a pretty one in Turner's drawing of Rome
with the large balustrade for a foreground
in the Hakewell's Italy series ; the single
baluster struck out of the line, and showing
the street below through the gap, simply
makes the whole composition right, when
1 I am describing from an MS, circa 1300, of
Gregory’s Decretalia, in my own possession.
224 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
otherwise, it would have been stift and absurd.
If yon look back to Fig. 48 you will see,
in the arrangement of the battlements, a
simple instance of the use of such variation.
The whole top of the tower, though actually
three sides of a square, strikes the eye as a
continuous series of five masses. The first
two, on the left, somewhat square and blank ;
then the next two higher and richer, the
tiles being seen on their slopes. Both these
groups being couples, there is enough monot-
ony in the series to make a change pleasant ;
and the last battlement, therefore, is a little
higher than the first two — a little lower than
the second two — and different in shape from
either. Hide it wdth your finger, and see
how ugly and formal the other four battle-
ments look.
There are in this figure several other
simple illustrations of the laws we have been
tracing. Thus the whole shape of the \valls’
mass being square, it is well, still for the
sake of contrast, to oppose it not only by
the element of curvature, in the ring, and
lines of the roof below^ but by that of sharp-
ness ; hence the pleasure which the eye
takes in the projecting point of the roof.
Also, because the walls are thick and sturd)/,
it is well to contrast their strength with
weakness ; therefore we enjoy the evident
decrepitude of this roof as it sinks between
them. The whole mass being nearly white,
we want a contrasting shadow somewhere ;
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 22s
and get it, under our piece of decrepitude.
This shade, with the tiles of the wall below,
forms another pointed mass, necessary to
the first by the law of repetition. Hide
this inferior angle with your finger, and see
how ugly the other looks. A sense of the
law of symmetry, though you might hardly
suppose it, has some share in the feeling with
which you look at the battlements ; there
I is a certain pleasure in the opposed slopes
I of their top, on one side down to the left,
I on the other to the right. Still less w'ould
1 you think the law of radiation had anything
‘ to do \\dth the matter : but if you take the
extreme point of the black shadow on the
: left for a centre, and follow first the low
curve of the eaves of he wall, it will lead you,
if you continue it, to the point of the tower
cornice ; follow the second curve, the top
j of the tiles of the wall, and it will strike the
I top of the right-hand battlement ; then
? draw a curve from the highest point of the
i angle battlement on the left, through the
I points of the roof and its dark echo ; and
I you will see how the whole top of the tower
radiates from this lowest dark point. There
j are other curvatures crossing these main
ones, to keep them from being too conspicu-
I ous. Follow the curve of the upper roof,
I it will take you to the top of the highest
I battlement; and the stones indicated at
I the right-hand side of the tower are more
I extended at the bottom, in order to get some
i Q
^26 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
less direct expression of sympathy, such as
irregular stones may be capable of, with the
general flow of the curves from left to right.
You may not readily believe, at first, that
all these laws are indeed involved in so
trifling a piece of composition. But, as you
;3tudy longer, you will discover that these
laws, and many more, are obe^^ed by the
powerful composers in every touch ; that
iliterally, there is never a dash of their pencil
which is not carrying out appointed purposes
-of this kind in twenty various ways at once ;
.and that there is as much difference, in way
of intention and authority, between one of
'the great composers ruling his colours, and a
common painter confused by them, as there
is between a general directing the march
of an army, and an old lady carried off her
feet by a mob.
7. THE LAW OF INTERCHANGE
Closely connected with the law of contrast
is a law which enforces the unity of opposite
things, by giving to each a portion of the
character of the other. If, for instance,
you divide a shield into two masses of colour,
.aU the way down — suppose blue and white,
.and put a bar, or figure of an animal, partly
on one division, partly on the other, you will
find it pleasant to the eye if you make the
part of the animal blue which comes upon the
white half, and white which comes upon the
Mue half. This is done in heraldry, partly
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 227
for the sake of perfect intelligibility, but
yet more for the sake of dehght in inter-
change of colour, since, in all ornamentation
whatever, the practice is continual, in the
ages of good design.
Sometimes this alternation is merely a
reversal of contrasts ; as that, after red has
been for some time on one side, and blue on
the other, red shall pass to blue’s side
and blue to red’s. This kind of alterna-
tion takes place simply in four-quartered
shields ; in more subtle pieces of treatment,
a little bit only of each colour is carried into
the other, and they are as it were dovetailed
together. One of the most curious facts
which will impress itself upon you, when you
have drawn some time carefully from Nature
in light and shade, is the appearance of in-
tentional artifice with which contrasts of
this alternate kind are produced by her ; the
artistry with which she will darken a tree
trunk as long as it comes against light sky,
and throw sunlight on it precisely at the
spot where it comes against a dark hill, and
similarly treat all her masses of shade and
colour, is so great, that if you only follow
her closely, every one who looks at your
drawing with attention will think that you
have been inventing the most artificially
and unnaturally delightful interchanges of
shadow that could possibly be devised by
human wit.
You will find this law of interchange in-
228 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [in
sisted upon at length by Front in his Lessons
on Light and Shade ; it seems, of all his
principles of composition, to be the one he
is most conscious of ; many others he obeys
by instinct, but this he formally accepts and
forcibly declares.
The typical purpose of the law of inter-
change is, of course, to teach us how opposite
natures may be helped and strengthened by
receiving each, as far as they can, some im-
press or reflection, or imparted power, from
the other.
8. THE LAW OF CONSISTENCY
It is to be remembered, in the next place,
that while contrast exhibits the characters
of things, it very often neutralizes or par-
alyses their power. A number of white
things may be shown to be clearly white by
opposition of a black thing, but if we want
the full power of their gathered light, the
black thing may be seriously in our way.
Thus, while contrast displays things, it is
unity and sympathy which employ them,
concentrating the power of several into a
mass. And, not in art merely, but in all
the affairs of life, the wisdom of man is con-
tinually called upon to i*econcile these
opposite methods of exhibiting, or using,
the materials in his powder. By change he
gives them pleasantness, and by consistency
value ; by change he is refreshed, and by
perseverance strengthened.
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 229
Hence many compositions address them-
selves to the spectator by aggregate force
of colour or line, more than by contrasts of
either ; any noble pictures are painted al-
most exclusively in various tones of red, of
grey, or gold, so as to be instantly striking
by their breadth of flush, or glow, or tender
coldness, these qualities being exhibited
only by slight and subtle use of contrast.
Similarly as to form ; some compositions
associate massive and rugged forms, others
slight and graceful ones, each with few inter-
ruptions by lines of contrary character.
And, in general, such compositions possess
higher sublimity than those which are more
mingled in their elements. They tell a special
tale, and summon a definite state of feeling,
while the grand compositions merely please
the eye.
This unity or breadth of character gener-
ally attaches most to the works of the great-
est men ; then separate pictures have all
separate aims. We have not, in each, grey
colour set against sombre, and sharp forms
against soft, and loud passages against low :
but we have the blight picture, with its
delicate sadness ; the sombre picture, with
its single ray of relief ; the stern picture,
with only one tender group of lines ; the
soft and calm picture, with only one rock
angle at its flank ; and so on. Hence the
variety of their work, as well as its impres-
siveness. The principal bearing of this law.
230 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
however, is on the separate masses or divis-
ions of a picture : the character of the whole
composition may be broken or various, if
we please, but there must certainly be a
tendency to consistent assemblage in its
divisions. As an army may act on several
points at once, but can only act effectually
by having somewhere formed and regular
masses, and not w^holly by skirmishers ; so
a picture may be various in its tendencies,
but must be somewhere united and coherent
in its masses. Good composers are always
associating their colours in great groups ;
binding tlieir forms together by encompas-
sing lines, and securing, by various dexter-
ities of expedient, what they themselves call
‘ breadth ’ ; that is to say, a large gathering
of each kind of thing into one place ; light
being gathered to light, darkness to darkness,
and colour to colour. If^ however, this be
done by introducing false lights or false
colours, it is absurd and monstrous ; the skill
of a painter consists in obtaining breadth by
rational arrangement of his objects, not by
forced or wanton treatment of them. It
is an easy matter to paint one thing all white,
and another all black or brown ; but not
an easy matter to assemble all the circum-
stances which wall naturally produce wdiite
in one place, and brown in another. Gener-
ally speaking, however, breadth will result
in sufficient degree from fidelity of stiid}^ :
Nature is always broad ; and if you paint
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 231
her colours in true relations, you will paint
them in majestic masses. If you find your
work look broken and scattered, it is, in all
probability, not only ill composed, but un-
true.
The opposite quality to breadth, that of
division or scattering of light and colour,
has a certain contrasting charm, and is
occasionally introduced with exquisite effect
by good composers Still, it is never the
mere scattering, but the order discernible
through this scattering, which is the real
source of pleasure ; not the mere multitude,
but the constellation of multitude. The
broken lights in the work of a good painter
wander like flocks upon the hills, not unshep-
herded ; speaking of life and peace : the
broken lights of a bad painter fall like hail-
stones, and are capable only of mischief,
leaving it to be wished they were also of
dissolution.
9. THE LAW OF HARMONY
This last law is not, strictly speaking, so
much one of composition as of truth, but it
must guide composition, and is properly,
therefore, to be stated in this place.
1 One of the most wonderful compositions of Tin-
toret in Venice, is little more than a field of subdued
crimson, spotted with flakes of scattered gold. The
upper clouds in the most beautiful skies owe great
part of their power to infinitude of division ; order
being marked through this division.
232 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
Good drawing is, as we have seen, an
abstract of natural facts ; you cannot re-
present all that you would, but must con-
tinually be falling short, whether you will
or no, of the force, or quantity, of Nature.
Now, suppose that your means and time do
not admit of your giving the depth of colour
in the scene, and that you are obliged to
paint it paler. If you paint ail the colours
proportionately paler, as if an equal quantity
of tint had been washed away from each of
them, you still obtain a harmonious, though
an equally forcible statement of natural
fact. But if you take away the colours
unequally, and leave some tints nearly as
deep as they are in Nature, while others are
much subdued, you have no longer a true
statement. You cannot say to the observer
* Fancy all those colours a little deeper, and
you will have the actual fact*. However
he adds in imagination, or takes away, some-
thing is sure to be stiU wrong. The picture
is out of harmony.
It will happen, however, much more fre-
quently, that you have to darken the whole
system of colours, than to make them paler.
You remember, in your first studies of colour
from Nature, you were to leave the pas-
sages of light which were too bright to
be imitated, as white paper. But, in com-
pleting the picture, it becomes necessary to
put colour into them ; and then the other
colours must be made darker, in some fixed
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 233
relation to them. If you deepen all pro-
■; portionately, though the whole scene is
darker than reality, it is only as if you were
looking at the reality in a lower light : but
if, while you darken some of the tints, you
leave others undarkened, the picture is out
of harmony, and will not give the impression
of truth.
\ It is not, indeed, possible to deepen all the
colours so much as to reheve the lights in
their natural degree ; you would merely
sink most of your colours, if you tried to do
so, into a broad mass of blackness : but it
is quite possible to lower them harmoniously,
and yet more in some parts of the picture
than in others, so as to allow you to show
, the light you want in a visible relief. In
weii-harmonized pictures this is done by
gradually deepening the tone of the picture
"" towards the lighter parts of it, without
; materially lowering it in the very dark
* parts ; the tendency in such pictures being
of course, to include large masses of middle
tints. But the principal point to be observed
in doing this is to deepen the individual tints
; without dirtying or obscuring them. It is easy
to lower the tone of the picture by washing
it over with grey or brown ; and easy to see
the effect of the landscape, when its colours
are thus universally polluted with black,
by using the black convex mirror, one of
the most pestilent inventions for falsifying
nature and degrading art which ever was
I IP I
234 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
put into an artist's hand For the thing
required is not to darken pale yellow by
mixing grey with it, but to deepen the
pure yellow ; not to darken crimson by
mixing black with it, but by making it
deeper and richer crimson ; and thus the
required effect could only be seen in Nature,
if you had pieces of glass of the colour of
every object in your landscape, and of evei\
minor hue that made up those colours, and
then could see the real landscape through
this deep gorgeousness of the vaiied glass.
You cannot do this with glass, but you can
do it for yourself as you work ; that is to
say, you can put deep blue for pale blue,
deep gold for pale gold, and so on, in the
proportion you need ; and then you may
paint as forcibly as you choose, but your
work mil still be in the manner of Titian,
not of Caravaggio or Spagnoletto, or any
other of the black slaves of painting .
Supposing those scales of colour, which
I told you to prepare in order to show you
the relations of colour to grey, were quite
accurately made, and numerous enough,
1 I fully believe that the strange grey gioqni,
accompanied by considerable power of eifeyt, which
prevails in modern French art, must be owing to the
use of this mischievous instrument ; the Iwench
landscape always gives me the idea of Nature seen
carelessly in the dark mirror, and painted coarsely,
but scientifically, through the veil of its perversiom
2 Various other parts of this subject are entered
into, especially in their bearing on the ideal of paint“
ing, in. Mod^rfh Painters ^ vol. iv, chap. lu.
III] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 235
3^011 would have nothing more to do, in order
to’ obtain a deeper tone in any given mass
of colour, than to substitute for each of its
hues the hue as man}^ degrees deeper in the
scale as you wanted ; that is to say, if you
wanted to deepen the whole two degrees,
substituting for the yellow No. 5 the ^^ellow
No 7, and for the red No. 9 the red No. ii,
and so on : but the hues of an^r object in
Nature are far too numerous, and their
degrees too subtle, to admit of so mechanical
a process. Still, you may see the principle
of the whole matter clearly by taking a group
of colours out of 3^our scale, arranging them
prettily, and then washing them all over
with gre}?' : that represents the treatment
of Nature b}^ the black mirror. Then
arrange the same group of colours, with the
tints five or six degrees deeper in the scale ;
and that will represent the treatment of
Nature by Titian.
You can onl^’, however, feel your way
fully to the right of the thing by working
from Nature.
The best subject on which to begin a piece
of study of this kind is a good thick tree
trunk, seen against blue sky with some
white clouds in it. Paint the clouds in true
and tenderly gradated white ; then give the
sky a bold full blue, bringing them well out ;
then paint the trunk and leaves grandly
dark against all, but in such glowing dark
green and brown as you see they will bear.
236 THE ELEMENTS OF DRA WING [ni
Afterwards proceed to more complicated
studies, matching the colours carefully first
by your old method ; then deepening each
colour with its own tint, and being careful,
above all things, to keep truth of equal
change when the colours are connected with
each other, as in dark and light sides of the
same object. Much more aspect and sense
of harmony are gained by the precision with
which you observe the relation of colours in
dark sides and light sides, and the infiuence
of modifying reflections, than by mere
accuracy of added depth in independent
colours.
This harmony of tone, as it is generally
called, is the most important of those which
the artist has to regard. But there are all
kinds of harmonies in a picture, according
to its mode of production. There is even a
harmony of touch. If you paint one part
of it very rapidly and forcibly, and another
part slowly and delicately, each division of
the picture may be right separately, but
they will not agree together ; the whole
will be effectless and valueless, out of har-
mony. Similarly, if you paint one part of
it by a yellow light in a warm day, and
another by a grey light in a cold day, though
both may have been sunlight, and both may
be well toned, and have their relative shadows
truly cast, neither will look like light i they
will destroy each other’s power, by being out
of harmony. These are only broad and defin-
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 237
able instances of discordance ; but there is
an extent of harmony in all good work much
too subtle for definition ; depending on the
draughtsman’s carrying everything he draws
up to just the balancing and harmonious
point, in finish, and colour, and depth of
tone, and intensity of moral feeling, and
style of touch, all considered at once ; and
never allowing himself to lean too emphatic-
ally on detached parts, or exalt one thing
at the expense of another, or feel acutely in
one place and coldly in another. If you
have got some of Criiikshank’s etchings, you
will be able, I think, to feel the nature of
harmonious treatment in a simple kind, by
comparing them with any of Richter’s illus-
trations to the numerous German story-
books lately published at Christmas, with
all the German stories spoiled. Cruik-
shank’s work is often incomplete in char-
acter and poor in incident, but, as drawing,
it is perfect in harmony. The pure and
simple effects of daylight which he gets by
his thorough mastery of treatment in this
respect, are quite unrivalled, as far as I
know, by any other work executed with so
few touches. His vignettes to Grimm’s
German Stories, already recommended, are
the most remarkable in this quality. Richter’s
illustrations, on the contrary, are of a very
high stamp as respects understanding of
human character, with, infinite playfulness
and tenderness of fancy ; but, as drawings
238 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [m
they are almost unendurably out of har-
mony, violent blacks in one place being con-
tinually opposed to trenchant white in
another ; and, as is almost sure to be the
case with bad harmonists, the local colour
hardly felt anywhere. All German work is
apt to be out of harmony, in consequence
of its too frequent conditions of affectation,
and its wilful refusals of fact; as well as
by reason of a feverish kind of excitement,
which dwells violently on particular points,
and makes aU the lines of thought in the
picture to stand on end, as it were, like a
cat’s fur electrified ; while good work is
always as quiet as a couchant leopard, and
as strong.
I have now stated to you all the laws oi
composition which occur to me as capable of
being illustrated or defined ; ^ but there are
multitudes of others which, in the present
state of my knowledge, I cannot define, and
others which I never hope to define ; and
these the most important, and connected
with the deepest powers of the art. Among
those which I hope to be able to explain
when I have thought of them more, are the
laws which relate to nobleness and ignoble-
ness ; that ignobleness especially wliich we
commonly caE ‘vulgarity’, and wliich, in
its essence, is one of the most curious sub-
jects of inquiry connected with human
feeling. Among those which I never hope
to explain, are. chiefly laws of, expression,
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 239
others bearing simply on simple mat-
ters ; but, for that very reason, more in-
fluential than any others. These are, from
the first, as inexplicable as our bodily sensa-
tions are ; it being j ust as impossible, I think,
to explain why one succession of musical
notes ^ shall be noble and pathetic, and such as
might have been sung by Casella to Dante,
and why another succession is base and ridi-
culous, and would be fit only for the reason-
abi}^ good ear of Bottom, as to explain why we
like sweetness, and dislike bitterness. The
best part of eveiy great work is always
inexplicable : it is good because it is good ;
and innocently gracious, opening as the
green of the earth, or falling as the dew of
heaven.
But though you cannot explain them, you
may always render yourself more and more
sensitive to these higher qualities by the
discipline which you generally give to your
character, and this especially with regard
to the choice of incidents ; a kind of com-
position in some sort easier than the artist-
ical arrangements of lines and colours, but
in every sort nobler, because addressed to
deeper feelings.
1 111 all the best arrangements of colour, the delight
occasioned by their mode of succession is entirely
iiiexplicabie, nor can it be reasoned about ; we like
it just as we like an air in music, Jiut cannot reason
any refractory person into liidng it, if they do not :
and yet there is distinctly a right and a wrong in it,
and a good taste and bad taste respecting it, as also
in music. ,
240 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
For instance, in the ‘ Datur Hora Quieti
the last vignette to Rogers's Poems, the
plough in the foreground has three purposes.
The first purpose is to meet the stream of
sunlight on the river, and make it brighter
by opposition ; but any dark object what-
ever would have done this. Its second pur-
pose is, by its two arms, to repeat the cadence
of the group of the two ships, and thus give
a greater expression of repose ; but two
sitting figures would have done this. Its
third and chief, or pathetic, purpose is, as it
lies abandoned in the furrow (the vessels
also being moored, and having their sails
down) to be a type of human labour closed
with the close of day. The parts of it on
which the hand leans are brought most
clearly into sight ; and they are the chief
dark of the picture, because the tillage of
the ground is required of man as a punish-
ment ; but they make the soft light of the
setting sun brighter, because rest is sweetest
after toil. These thoughts may never occur
to us as we glance carelessly at the design ;
and yet their under current assuredly affects
the feelings, and increases, as the painter
meant it should, the impression of melan-
choly, and of peace.
Again, in the ' Lancaster Sands which is
one of the plates I have marked as most
desirable for your possession, the stream
of light which falls from the setting sun on
the advancing tide stands similarly in need of
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 241
some force of near object to relieve its blight-
n^ss. But the incident which Turner has
here adopted is the swoop of an angry sea-
gull at a dog, who yelps at it, drawing back
as the wave rises over his feet, and the bird
shrieks within a foot of his face. Its unex-
pected boldness is a type of the anger of its
ocean element, and warns us of the sea’s
advance just as surely as the abandoned
plough told us of the ceased labour of the
day.
It is not, however, so much in the selection
of single incidents of this kind as in the feeling
which regulates the arrangement of the
whole subject that the mind of a great com-
poser is known. A single incident may be
suggested by a felicitous chance, as a pretty
motto might be for the heading a chapter.
But the great composers so arrange all their
designs that one incident illustrates another,
just as one colour relieves another. Per-
haps the * Heysham of the Yorkshire series,
which, as to its locality, may be considered
a companion to the last drawing we have
spoken of, the ^ Lancaster Sands presents
as interesting an example as we could find
of Turner’s feeling in this respect. The
subject is a simple north-country village,
on the shore of Morecambe Bay ; not in the
common sense a picturesque village : there
are no pretty bow-windows, or red roofs, or
rocky steps of entrance to the rustic doors,
or quaint gabies ; nothing but a single street
■ ■ ■ ■ R ■ •
243 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [tii
of thatched and chiefly clay-built cottaggs,
ran'^ed in a somewhat monotonous line, the
roofs so green with moss that at first we
hardly discern the houses from the fields
and trees. The village street is closed at
the end by a wooden gate, indicating the
little traffic there is on the road through it,
and giving it sometliing the look of a
large farmstead, in which a right of way lies
through the yard. The road which leads
to this gate is full of ruts, and winds down
a bad bit of hill between two broken banks
of moor ground, succeeding immediately to
the few enclosures which surround the vil-
lage ; they can hardly be called gardens ;
but a decayed fragment or two of fencing
fill the gaps in the bank ; and a clothes-line,
with some clothes on it, striped blue and
red, and a smock-frock, is stretched be-
tween the trunks of some stunted willows ;
a very small haystack and pigstye being
seen at the back of the cottage beyond. An
empty, two-wheeled, lumbering cart, drawn
by a pair of horses ivith huge wooden collars,
the driver sitting lazily in the sun, sideways
on the leader, is going slowly home along
the rough road, it being about country
dinner-time. At the end of the village there
is a better house, with three chimneys and a
dormer window in its roof, and the i oof is of
stone shingle instead of thatch, but very
rough. This house is no doubt the clci gy
man’s; there is some smoke from one of
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 243
i’ 4s chimneys, none from any other in the
' village ; this smoke is from the lowest chim-
* ney at the back, evidently that of the kitchen,
and it is rather thick, the fire not having
been long lighted. A few hundred yards
from the clergyman's house, nearer the
shore, is the church, discernible from the
cottages only by its low two-arched belfry,
j a little npater than one would expect in such
; a villagd’’; perhaps lately built by the Puseyite
i incumbent^ : and beyond the church, close
to the sea, are two fragments of a border
» war- tower, standing on their circular mound,
\ worn on its brow deep into edges and fur-
rows by the feet of the village children. On
the bank of moor, which forms the fore-
‘ ground, are a few cows, the carter’s dog
barking at a vixenish one : the milkmaid
I is feeding another, a gentle white one, which
turns its head to her, expectant of a handful
j of fresh hay, which she has brought for it
] in her blue apron, fastened up round her
I waist ; she stands with her pail on her head,
j evidently the village coquette, for she has a
! , heat bodice, and pretty striped petticoat
under the blue apron, and red stockings.
^ ‘ Puseyism ’ was unknown in the days when this
‘ drawing was made ; but the kindly and helpful
inil lienees of what may be called ecclesiastical senti-
ment, which, in a morbidly exaggerated condition,
j forms one of the principal elements of * Puseyism
I use this word regretfully, no other existing which
will serve for it — had been known and felt in our
r wild northern districts long before.
244 the elements OF DRAWING [in
Nearer ns, the cowherd, barefooted, stands
a piece of the limestone rock (for the ground
is thistly and not pleasurable to bare feet) —
whether boy or girl we are not sure : it may
be a boy, with a girl’s wom-out bonnet on,
or a girl with a pair of ragged trowsers on ;
probably the first, as the old bonnet is evi-
dently useful to keep the sun out of our eyes
when we are looking for strayed cows among
the moorland hollows, and helps us at
present to watch (holding the bonnet’s edge
down) the quarrel of the vixenish cow with
the dog, which, leaning on our long stick, we
allow to proceed unthout any interference.
A little to the right the hay is being got in,
of which the milkmaid has just taken her
apronful to the white cow ; but the hay is
very thin, and cannot well be raked up be-
cause of the rocks ; we must glean it like
corn, hence the smallness of our stack behind
the willows ; and a woman is pressing a
bundle of it hard together, kneeling against
the rock’s edge, to carry it safely to the
hay-cart without dropping any. Beyond
the village is a rock}^ hill, deep set vdth
brushwood, a square crag or two of lime-
stone emerging here and there, with pleasant
turf on their brows, heaved in russet and
mossy mounds against the sky, which,
clear and calm, and as golden as the moss,
stretches down behind it towards the sea.
A single cottage just shows its roof over the
edge of the hill, looking seawards : perhaps
Ill] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 245
’ one of tlie village shepherds is a sea captain
now, and may have built it there, that his i
» mother may first see the sails of his ship ^
whenever it runs into the bay. Then under
the hiH, and beyond the border tower, is the
blue sea itself, the waves fi.o\\dng in over the 1
sand in long curved lines, slowly ; shadows !
of cloud, and gleams of shallow water on i
, white sand alternating — miles away ; but !
i no sail is visible, not one fisher-boat on the 1
i beach, not one dark speck on the quiet ;
horizon. Beyond all are the Cumberland
mountains, clear in the sun, with rosy light on
ail their crags. i
I shoul d think the reader cannot but feel the j
kind of harmony there is in this composition ; j;
the entire purpose of the painter to give f
us the impression of wild, yet gentle, country !
life, monotonous as the succession of the !
noiseless waves, patient and enduring as the
rocks ; but peaceful, and full of health and
quiet hope, and sanctified by the pure moun-
tain air and baptismal dew of heaven, falling
softly between days of toil and nights of
innocence. ■ . i;
All noble composition of this kind can be
reached only by instinct: you cannot set
yourself to arrange such a subject ; you
may see it, and seize it, at all times, but ;
never laboriously invent it. And your power
of discerning what is best in expression,
among natural subjects, depends wholly on
the temper in which you keep your own
246 THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING [iii
mind ; above all, on your living so much
alone as to allow it to become acutely sensi-
tive in its own stillness. The noisy life of
modern days is wholly incompatible with any
true perception of natural beauty. If you
go down into Cumberland by the railroad,
live in some frequented hotel, and explore
the hills with merry companions, however
much you may enjoy your tour or their con-
versation, depend upon it you will never
choose so much as one pictorial subject
rightly ; you will not see into the depth of
any. But take knapsack and stick, walk
towards the hills by short day's journeys —
ten or twelve miles a day — taking a week
from some starting-place sixty or scArenty
miles away : sleep at the pretty little way-
side inns, or the rough village ones ; then
take the hills as they tempt you, following
glen or shore as your eye glances or your
heart guides, wholly scornful of local fame or
fashion, and of everything which it is the
ordinary traveller’s duty to see, or pride to
do. Never force yourself to admire any-
thing when you are not in the humour ; but
never force yourself away from what you
feel to be lovely, in search of anything
better : and gradually the deeper scenes
of the natural world vdll unfold themselves
to you in still increasing fulness of passionate
power ; and your difficulty will be no more
to seek or to compose subjects, but only to
choose one from among the multitude of
in] ON COLOUR AND COMPOSITION 247
melodions thoughts with which you will be
l|auntecl, thoughts which will of course
be noble or original in proportion to your
own depth of character and general power
of mind ; for it is not so much by the con-
sideration you give to any single drawing,
as by the previous discipline of your powers
of thought, that the character of your com-
position will be determined. Simplicity
of life will ma,ke you sensitive to the refine-
ment and modesty of scenery, just as inor-
dinate excitement and pomp of daily life will
make you enjoy coarse colours and affected
forms. Habits of patient comparison and
accurate judgment will make your art
precious, as they will make your actions
wise ; and every increase of noble enthu-
siasm in your living spirit will be measured
by the reflection of its light upon the work
of your hands.
Faithfully yours,
J. Ruskin.
APPENDIX I
ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
N OTE I , p. 6i . Principle of the Stereoscope.
I am sorry to find a notion current among
artists, that they can, in some degree, imitate
in a picture the effects of the stereoscope, by
confusion of lines. There are indeed one or
two artifices by which, as stated in the text,
an appearance of retirement or projection may
be obtained, so that they partly supply the place
of the stereoscopic effect, but they do not
imitate that effect. The principle of the human
sight is simply this : by means of our two eyes
we literally see everything from two places at
once ; and, by calculated combination, in the
brain, of the facts of form so seen, we arrive at
conclusions respecting the distance and shape
of the object, which we could not otherwise
have reached. But it is just as vain to hope
to paint at once the two views of the object as
seen from these two places, though only an
inch and a half distant from each other, as it
would be if they were a mile and a half distant
from each other. With the right eye you see
one view of a given object, relieved against one
part of the distance; with the left eye you see
another view of it, relieved against another
• a« ,
ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
249
part of the distance. You may paint whichever
those views you please ; you cannot paint both.
Hold your finger upright, between you and this
page of the book, about six inches from your
eyes and three from the book ; shut the right
eye, and hide the words * inches from ’ in the
second line above this, with your finger ; you
will then see ' six ’ on one side of it, and ' your '
on the other. Now shut the left eye and open
the right without moving your finger, and you
will see ‘ inches ’ but not ' six’. You may
paint the finger with ‘ inches ’ beyond it, or
with ' six ’ beyond it, but not with both. And
this principle holds for any object and any
distance. You might just as well try to paint
St. Paul’s at once from both ends of London
Bridge as to realize any stereoscopic effect in a
picture.
Note 2, p. Si. — ‘D ark lines turned to the
light.’
It ought to have been further observed that
the enclosure of the light by future shadow is by
no means the only reason for the dark lines
which great masters often thus introduce. It
constantly happens that a local colour -will show
its own darkness most on the light side, by
projecting into and against masses of light in
that direction ; and then the painter will indi-
cate this future force of the mass by his dark
touch. Both the monk’s head in Fig. 1 1 and
dog in Fig. 20 are dark towards the light for
this reason.
Note 3, p. 13 1. — ' Softness of reflections.'
I have not quite insisted enough on the
extreme care which is necessary in giving the
tender evanescence of the edges of the reflec-
tions, when the wnter is in the least agitated ;
APPENDIX
250
nor on the decision with which yon may reverse
the object, when the water is quite calm. Mo^
drawing of reflections is at once confused and
hard, but Nature’s is at once intelligible and
tender. Generally, at the edge of the water,
you ought not to see where reality ceases and
reflection begins ; as the image loses itself you
ought to keep all its subtle and varied veracities,
with the most exquisite softening of its edge.
Practice as much as you can from the reflec-
tions of ships in calm water, following out all
the reversed rigging, and taking, if an^qiiing,
more pains with the reflection than with the
ship.
Note 4, p. 134. — ‘When the reflection is
darkest, you will see through the water best.*
For this reason it often happens that if tlie
water be shallow and you are looking steeply
down into it, the reflection of objects on tlie
bank will consist simpljr of pieces of the bottom
seen clearly through the water, and relieved by
flashes of light, which are the reflection of the
sky. Thus you may have to draw the reflected
dark shape of a bush : but, inside of that shape,
you must not draw the leaves of the bush, but
the stones under the water ; and outside of this
dark reflection, the blue or white of the sky, with
no stones visible.
Note 5, p. 136. — ‘Approach streams with
reverence.’
I have hardly said anything about waves of
torrents or waterfalls, as 1 do not consider them
subjects for beginners to practice upon ; but, as
many of our younger artists are almost breaking
their hearts over them, it may be well to state
at once that it is ph^^sically impossible draw
a running torrent quite rightly, the lusb'c of
ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
251
its currents and whiteness of its foam being
tlepeiident on intensities of light which art has
not at its command. This also is to be observed,
that most young painters make their defeat
certain by attempting to draw running water,
which is a lustrous object in rapid motion,
without ever tr^dng their strength on a lustrous
object standing still. Let them break a coarse
green-glass bottle into a great many bits and
try to paint them, with all their undulations and
edges of fracture, as they lie still on the table ;
if they cannot, of course they need not try the
rushing crj^stal and foaming fracture of the
stream. If they can manage the glass bottle,
let them next try a fragment or two of yellow
opal foil ; it is quite a common and cheap mineral,
and presents, as closely as anything can, the
milky bloom and colour of a torrent wave :
and if they can conquer the opal, they may at
last have some chance wdth the stream, as far
as the stream is in any wise possible. But, as
I have just said, the bright parts of it are not
possible, and ought, as much as may be, to be
avoided in choosing subjects. A great deal
more may, however, be done than any artist
has done yet, in painting the gradual disappear-
ance and lovely colouring of stones seen through
clear and calm w’-ater.
Students living in towns may make great
progress in rock-drawing by frequently and
faithfully drawing broken edges of common
roofing-slates, of their real size.
Note 6, p. 17 1. — ‘ Nature’s economy of colour.’
I heard it wisely objected to this statement,
the other day, by a young lady that it w^as not
through economy that Nature did not colour
deep down in the flow’er bells, but because ‘ she
252
APPENDIX
had not light enough there to see to paint with
This may be true; but it is certainly not fof
want of light that, when she is laying the dark
spots on a foxglove, she will not use any more
purple than she has got already on the bell, but
takes out the colour all round the spot, and con-
centrates it in the middle.
Note 7, p. 190. — ‘ The law of repetition.'
The reader may perhaps recollect a very
beautiful picture of Vandyck's, in the Manches-
ter Exhibition, representing three chiklreii in
court dresses of rich black and red. The law in
question was amusingly illustrated, in the lower
corner of that picture, b}^ the introduction of
two crows, in a similar colour of court dress,
having jet black feathers and bright red beaks.
Since the first edition of this work was pub-
lished, I have ascertained that there are two
series of engravings from the Bible drawings
mentioned in the list at p. 70. One of these is
inferior to the other, and in many respects false
to the drawings; the * Jericho’, for instance, in
the false series, has common bushes instead of
palm trees in the middle distance. The original
plates may be had at almost any respectable
print-seller’s; and ordinary impressions, whether
of these or any other plates mentioned in the
list at pp, 69-70, will be quite as useful as
proofs: but, in buying Liber Studiorum, it is
always well to get the best impressions that can
be had, and if possible impressions of the
original plates ; published by Turner. In case
these are not to be had, the copies which are
in course of publication by Mr, Luptoii (4,
'Keppei .Street, Russell , Square), are good and
serviceable : but no others are of any use [note , of '
1857]-
253
ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
I have placed in the hands of Mr. Ward
^Vorking Men’s College) some photographs
from the etchings made by^ Turner
Liber ; the original etchings being now unobtai -
able except by fortunate accident. I have
selected the subjects carefully from my o^
collection of the etchings, and though some of tte
more subtle qualities of line are lost in the photo-
graphs. the 'student will find these Proofs the
best lessons in pen-drawing accessible to him
[note of 1859]*
APPENDIX II
THINGS TO BE STUDIED
The worst danger by far, to whicli a solitary
student is exposed, is that of liking things
that he should not. It is not so much his diffi-
culties, as his tastes, which he must set himself
to conquer ; and although, under the guidance
of a master, many works of art may be made
instructive, which are only of partial excellence
(the good and bad of them being duly distin-
guished), his safeguard, as long as he studies
alone, will be in allowing himself to possess
only things, in their way, so free from faults, that
nothing he copies in them can seriously mislead
him, and to contemplate only those works of
art which he knows to be either perfect or noble
in their errors. I will therefore set down in
clear order the names of the masters whom you
may safely admire, and a few of the books which
you may safely possess. In these days of cheap
illustration, the danger is always rather of your
possessing too much than too little. It may ad-
mit of some question, how far the looking at
bad art may set off and illustrate the characters
of the good ; but, on the whole, I believe it is
best to live always on quite wholesome food,
and that our taste of it will not be made more
acute by feeding, howwer temporarily, on ashes.
254
THINGS TO BE STUDIED 255
Of course the works of the great masters ca7i only
l>e serviceable to the student after he has made
considerable progress himself. It only wastes
the time and dulls the feelings of young persons,
to drag them through picture galleries ; at least,
unless they themselves wish to look at particular
pictures. Generally, young people only care to
enter a picture gallery when there is a chance
of getting leave to run a race to the other end
of it ; and they had better do that in the garden
below. If, however, they have any real enjoy-
ment of pictures, and want to look at this one
or that, the principal point is never to disturb
them in looking at what interests them, and never
to make them look at what does not. Nothing
is of the least use to young people (nor, by the
way, of much use to old ones), but what interests
them ; and therefore, though it is of great im-
portance to put nothing but good art into their
possession, yet when they are passing through
great houses or galleries, they should be allowed
to look precisely at what pleases them : if it is
not useful to them as art, it will be in some other
way ; and the healthiest way in which art can
interest them is when they look at it, not as art,
but because it represents something they like in
nature. If a boy has had his heart filled by the
life of some great man, and goes up thirstily
to a Vandyck portrait of him, to see what he
was like, that is the wholesomest way in which
he can begin the study of portraiture ; if he love
Tnountains, and dwell on a Turner drawing be-
cause he sees in it a likeness to a Yorkshire scar
or an Alpine pass, that is the wholesomest way
in which he can begin the study of landscape ;
and if a girbs mind is filled with dreams of an-
gels and saints, and she pauses before an Angelico
APPENDIX
256
because she thinks it must surely be indeed like
heaven, that is the whoiesomest way for her ta
begin the study of religious art.
When, however, the student has made some
definite progress, and every picture becomes
really a guide to him, false or true, in his own
work, it is of great importance that he should
never so much as look at bad art ; and then, if
the reader is willing to trust me in the matter,
the following advice will be useful to him. In
which, with his permission, I will quit tlie in-
direct and return to the epistolary address, as
being the more convenient.
First, in Galleries of Pictures :
1. You may look, with trust in their being
always right, at Titian, Veronese, Tintoret,
Giorgione, John Bellini, and Velasquez ; the
authenticity of the picture being of course es-
tablished for you by proper authority.
2. You may look with admiration, admitting
however, question of right and wrong at
Van E^^ck, Holbein, Perugino, Francia, Angel-
ico, Leonardo da Vinci, Correggio, Vandyck,
Rembrandt, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Turner,
and the modern Pre-Raphaelites You liad
better look at no other painters than these, for
you run a chance, otherwise, of being led far
3 - I do not mean necessarily to imply inferiority
of rank, in saying that this second class of i^ainters
have questionable qualities. The greatest men have
often many faults, and sometimes their faults are
part of their greatness : but such men are not. of
course, to be looked upon by the student with abso-
lute implicitness of faith.
2 laciuding under this term, John Lewis, and
WiUiam Hunt of the Old Water-colour, who, take
him all in alVis the best painter of still life, I believe,
that ever existed.
THINGS TO BE STUDIED 257
ofi the road, or into grievous faults, by some of
other great ones, as Michael Angelo, Raphael,
and Rubens ; and of being, besides, corrupted
in taste by the base ones, as Murillo, Salvator,
Claude, Caspar Poussin, Teniers, and such
others. You may look, however, for examples
of evil, with safe universality of reprobation,
being sure that everything you see is bad, at
Domenichino, the Caracci, Bronzino, and the
figure pieces of Salvator.
Among those named for study under question,
3’ou cannot look too much at, nor grow too en-
thusiastically fond of, Angelico, Correggio,
Reynolds, Turner, and the Pre-Raphaelites ;
but, if you find yourself getting especially fond of
any of the others, leave ofi looking at them, for
you must be going wrong some way or other. If,
for instance, you begin to like Rembrandt or
Leonardo especially, you are losing your feeling
for colour ; if you like Van Eyck or Perugino
especially, you must be getting too fond of rigid
detail ; and if you like Vandyck or Gainsborough
especially, you must be too much attracted by
gentlemanly fiimsiness.
Secondly, of pubhshed, or otherwise multi-
plied, art, such as you may be able to get your-
self, or to see at private houses or in shops, the
works of the following masters are the most
desirable, after the Turners, Rembrandts, and
Liirers, which I have asked you to get first ;
I. Samuel Prout.^
All his published lithographic sketches are of
the greatest value, wholly unrivalled in power of
^ The order in which I place these masters does
not in the least imply superiority or inferiority. I
wrote their names down as they occurred to me;
putting Rossetti’s last, because what I had to say
S'
258
APPENDIX
composition, and in love and feeling of arclii-
tectural subject. His somewhat niannere*.!
linear execution, though not to be imitated
in your own sketches from Nature, may be
occasionally copied, for discipline’s sake, with
great advantage ; it will give you a peculiar
steadiness of hand, not quickly attainable in
any other way ; and there is no fear of your
getting into any faultful mannerism as long as
you carry out the dilferent inodes of in ore
delicate study above recommended.
If you are interested in architecture, '^lul wish
to make it your chief study, you should diaw
much from photographs of it ; and tlien fiom
the architecture itself, with the same completion,
of detail and gradation, only keeping tin siuidow s
of due paleness, in photographs they aie always
about four times as dark as they ought to be ;
and treat buildings with as much care and love
as artists do their rock foregrounds, drawing
all the moss, and weeds, and stains upon them.
But if, without caring tc'i understand architecture,
you merely want the picturesque character of it,
and to be able to sketch it fast, you cannot do
better than take Front for your exclusive master,
only do not think that yon are co|)\ang i’roui by
drawing straight lines with dots o,t llie end of
them. Get first his Rhine, and draw the sub-
jects that have most hills, and least architecture
in them, with chalk on smooth ]:)nper, till you
can lay on his broad flat tints, and get his grada-
tions of light, which are very woiulcTiuI ; tlion
take up the architectural subjects ia tlie Rhine,
of him was connected with other siilijccts; and one
or another will appear to you great, ur he tnr.ui he
you useful,. according to the kind of subjects vtui
studying.
THINGS TO BE STUDIED
259
%
and draw again and again the groups of figures,
^ etc., in his Microcosm, and Lessons on Light and
Shadow. After that, proceed to copy the grand
subjects in the sketches in Flanders and Germany',
or in Switzerland and Italy, if you cannot get the
Flanders ; but the Switzerland is very far
inferior. Then work from Nature, not trying
to Proutise Nature, by breaking smooth build-
ings into rough ones, but only drawing what
you see, with Prout’s simple method and firm line.
Don't copy his coloured works. They are good,
but not at all equal to his chalk and pencil
drawings, and you will become a mere imitator,
and a very feeble imitator, if you use colour at
all in Prout’s method. I have not space to
explain why this is so, it would take a long piece
of reasoning ; trust me for the statement.
2. John Lewis.
His sketches in Spain, lithographed by him-
self, are very valuable. Get them, if you can,
and also some engravings (about eight or ten, I
think, altogether) of wild beasts, executed by
h his own hand a long time ago ; they are very
precious in every way. The series of the A Iham-
hra is rather slight, and few of the subjects are
I lithographed by himself ; still it is -well worth
i having.
; But let no lithographic work come into the
' house, if you can help it, nor even look at any,
except Prout’s and those sketches of Lewis's.
3. George Cruikshank.
If you ever happen to meet with the two
volumes of Grimm’s German Stories, which w'ere
illustrated by him long ago, pounce upon them
instantly ; the etchings in them are the finest
things, next to Rembrandt’s, that, as far as I
I know, have been done since etching was in-
260 APPENDIX
vented. Yo i cannot look at tiiein too much,
nor copy them too often. #
All his works are very valuable, though dis-
agreeable when they touch on the worst vul-
garities of modern life ; and often much spoiled
by a curiously mistaken t^’pe of face divided so
as to give too much to the mouth and eyes and
leave too little for forehead, the eyes being set
about two thirds up, instead of at half the
height of til 3 head. But this manner of work
is always right ; and his tragic power, though
i rarely developed, and warped by habits of carica-
ture is, in reality, as great as his grotesque power.
There is no fear of his hurting your taste, as
long as your principal work lies among art of so
totally different a character as most of that which
I have recommended to you ; and, you may,
therefore, get great good by copying almost
anything of his that may come in your way ;
except only his illustrations, lately published
to Cinderella, and Jack and the Bean-stalk and
Tom Thumb, which are much over-laboured,
and confused in line. You should get them,
but do not copy them.
4. Alfred Rethei.
I only know two publications by him ; one,
the Dance of Death, with text by Reinick, pub-
lished in Leipsic, but to be had now of any
London book-seller for the sum, I believe, of
eighteenpence, and containing six plates full
of instructive character ; the other, of two
plates only, Death the Avenger, and Death the .
Friend. These two are far superior to the
Todtentanz, and, if you can get them, will be
enough in themselves to show all that Rethei
can Teach you. If you dislike ghastly subjects,
get Death the Friend only.
THINGS TO BE STUDIED 261
5. Bewick.
^ The execution of the plumage in Bewick’s
birds is the most masterly thing ever yet done
in wood-cutting ; it is just worked as Paul
Veronese would have worked in wood, had he
taken to it. His vignettes, though too coarse
in execution, and vulgar in types of form, to be
good copies, show, nevertheless, intellectual
power of the highest order ; and there are pieces
of sentiment in them, either pathetic or satirical,
which have never since been equalled in illustra-
tions of this simple kind ; the bitter intensity
of the feeling being just like that which char-
acterizes some of the leading Pre-Raphaelites.
Bewick is the Burns of painting.
^ 6. Blake.
The Book of Job, engraved by himself, is of
the highest rank in certain characters of imagin-
ation and expression ; in the mode of obtain-
ing certain effects of light it will also be a very
useful example to you. In expressing condi-
tions of glaring and flickering light, Blake is
greater than Rembrandt.
7. Richter.
I have already told you what to guard against
in looking at his works. I am a little doubtful
whether I have done well in including them
in this catalogue at all ; but the fancies in
them are so pretty and numberless, that I
must risk, for their sake, the chance of hurting
you a little in judgment of style. If you want
to make presents of story-books to children, his
are the best you can now get.
'8., Rossetti.
An edition of Tennyson, lately published,
contains woodcuts from drawings by Rossetti,
and other chief Pre-Raphaelite masters. They
263
APPENDIX
are terribly spoiled in the cutting, and generally
the best part, the expression of feature, entirely-
lost'i; still they are full of instruction, and
cannot be studied too closely. But, observe,
respecting these wood-cuts, that if 3^011 have
been in the habit of looking at much spurious
work, in which sentiment, action, and style are
borrowed or artificial, you will assuredly be
offended at first by all genuine work, which is
intense in feeling. Genuine art, which is merely
art, such as Veronese’s or Titian’s, ma}" not offend
you, though the chances are that you will not
care about it : but genuine w’orks of feeling, such
as Maitcl or Aurora Leigh in poetry, or the grand
Pre-Raphaelite designs in painting, are sure to
offend 3^011 ; and if you cease to work har^l,
and persist in looking at vicious and false art,
they will continue to offend you. It will be wxdl,
therefore, to have one t3']3e of entirely false art,
in order to know what to guard against. Flax-
man’s outlines to Dante contain, I think, exam-
ples of almost every kind of falsehood and
feebleness which it is possible for a trained
artist, not base in thought, to commit or admit
both in design and execution. Base or de-
graded choice of subject, such as 3^011 will con-
stantly find in Teniers and others of the Dutch
painters, I need not, I hope, warn 3^ou against ;
you will simply turn away from it in disgust ;
while mere bad or feeble drawing, which makes
1 This is especially the case in the St. Cecily^
Rossetti’s first illustration to the ‘ palace art'b
which would have been the best in the book had it
been well engraved. The wdiole wa;>rk should be
taken up again, and done b3" line engraving, per-
fectly ; and wholly from Pre-Raphnclite designs,
with which no other modem work cau bear the least
comparison.
THINGS TO BE STUDIED 263
mistakes in every direction at once, cannot
%acii 3’-ou the particular sort of educated fallacy
in question. But, in these designs of Flaxman's,
3’ou have gentlemanly feeling, and fair knowledge
of anatom}?-, and firm setting down of lines, all
applied in the foolishest and worst possible way ;
3'ou cannot have a more finished example of
learned error, amiable \vant of meaning, and bad
drawing with a steady hand^. Retsch's out-
lines have more real material in them than Flax-
nian's, occasionalH^ showing true fancy and
i The praise I liave given iiicidentaih^ to Flax-
man’s sculpture in The Seven Liu}ipi>, and elsewhere,
refers wholh^ to his studies from Nature, and simple
groups in marble, which were always good and
interesting. Still, 1 have overrated hini, even in this
res'i.-ject ; and it is generally to be remembered that,
in speaking of artists whose works I cannot be sup-
posed to have specialh'- studied, the errors I fall into
will alwa3^s be on the side of praise. For, of course,
|)raise is most to be given when the thing
praised is above one’s know'ledge ; and, therefore,
as our knowledge increases, such things may be
found less praiseworthy than w^e thought. But blame
can only l>e justly given w'hen the thing blamed is
below' one’s level of sight ; and, pyracticali}^, I never
do blame anything imfil I have got wvil past it, and
am certain that there is demonstrable falsehood in it.
I belkwe, therenkwe, all my blame to be wdiolly trust -
W'orthy, having never yet had occasion to repeat of
one depreciatory word that I have ever written, while
I have often found that, w'ith respect to things I had
not time to study closely, I was led too far by sudden
admiration, helped, perhaps, by peculiar associations,
or other dece]->tive accidents ; and this the more,
because I iiover care to check an expression of delight,
thinking the cliaiices are, that, even if mistaken, it
will do more good than harm; but 1 weigh every
W'ord of likime with scrupulous caution. I have
sesmetimes erased a strong passage of blame from
second editions ctf mv' books ; but this "was only
W'iien I found it offtaided the reader without convinc-
ing iiim, never because 1 repented of it m3’'self.
264
APPENDIX
power ; in artistic principle they are nearly as
bad, and in taste worse. All outlines from stati/-
ary, as given in works on classical art, wall be
very hurtful to you if you in the least like them ;
and nearly all finished line engravings. Some
particular prints I could name which possess
instructive qualities, but it would take too long
to distinguish them, and the best way is to avoid
line engravings of figures altogether^. If you
happen to be a rich person, possessing quantities
of them, and if you are fond of the large finished
prints from Raphael, Correggio, etc., it is wholly
impossible that you can make any progress in
knowledge of real art till you have sold them all
— or burnt them, which would be a greater benefit
to the world. I hope that some da}^ true and
noble engravings will be made from the few
pictures of the great schools, which the restora-
tions undertaken by the modern managers of
foreign galleries may leave us ; but the existing
engravings have nothing whatever in common
with the good in the works they profess to repre-
sent, and if you like them, you like in the
originals of them hardly anything but their
errors.
Finally, your judgment will be, of course,
much affected by your taste in literature. In-
deed, I know many persons who have the purest
taste in literature, and yet false taste in art, and it
is a phenomenon which puzzles me not a little ;
but I have never known any one with false taste
1 Large line engravings, I mean, in which the
lines, as such, are conspicuous. Small vignettes in
line are often beautiful in figures no less than land-
scape, as, for instance, those from Stothard’s draw-
ings in Rogers’ Italy ^ and, therefore, I have just
recommended the vignettes to Tennyson to be done
by . line ' engraving.
THINGS TO BE STUDIED
:65
» in books, and true taste in pictures. It is also of
%lie greatest importance to you, not only for art’s
sake, but for all kinds of sake, in these days of
book deluge, to keep out of the salt swamps of
literature, and live on a little rocky island of
your own, with a spring and a lake in it, pure and
good. I cannot, of course, suggest the choice
of your library to you, every several mind
needs different books ; but there are some books
which we all need, and assuredly, if you read
Homer 'b Plato, .-Eschylus, Herodotus, Dante-,
Shakespeare, and Spenser, as much as you ought,
you will not require wide enlargement of shelves
to right and left of them for purposes of perpetual
♦ study. Among modern books, avoid generally
magazine and review literature. Sometimes it
m^fy contain a useful abridgement or a wdiolesome
piece of criticism ; but the chances are ten to one
it will either waste your time or mislead you. If
you want to understand any subject whatever,
read the best book upon it you can hear of ; not
a review of the book. If you don’t like the first
' book you try, seek for another ; but do not
hope ever to understand the subject without
pains, by a reviewer’s help. Avoid especially
that class of literature which has a knowing tone ;
it is the most poisonous of all. Every good book,
or piece of book, is full of admiration and awe ;
‘ it may contain firm assertion or stern satire,
^ Chapman’s, if not the original.
^ Carey’s or Cayley’s, if not the original, I do
not know which are the best translations of Plato,
Herodotus and iEschylus can only be read in the
origlnaL It may seem strange that I name books
. like these for ‘'beginners’; but all. the greatest
books contain food for all ages ; and an intelligent
!■' :and rightly bred youth or gM ought to enjoy much,
even in Plato, by the time they are fifteen or sixteen.
266
APPENDIX
but it never sneers coldly, nor asserts haughtily,
and it always leads you to reverence or lovf
something with your whole heart. It is not al-
ways easy to distinguish the satire of the venom-
ous race of books from the satire of the noble
and pure ones ; but in general you may notice
that the cold-blooded Crustacean and Batrach-
ian books will sneer at sentiment ; and the
warm-blooded, human books, at sin. Tlien, in
general, the more you can restrain your serious
reading to reflective or lyric poetry, Iiistory and
natural history, avoiding hctioii and the drama,
the healthier your mind will become. Of mod-
ern poetry keep to Scott, Wordsworth, Keats,
Crabbe, Tennyson, the two Brownings, Lowell,
Longfellow, and Coventry Patmore, wh§se
Angel in the House is a most finished piece of
writing, and the sweetest analysis we possess
of quiet modern domestic feeling ; while hlrs.
Browning’s A urora Leigh is, as far as I know, the
greatest poem which the century has produced
in any language. Cast Coleridge at once aside,
as sickly and useless ; and Shelley, as shallow
and verbose ; Byron, until your taste is fully
formed, and you are able to discern the mag-
nificence in him from the wrong. Never read
bad common poetry, nor write any poetry your-
self ; there is, perhaps, rather too much than too
little in the world already.
Of reflective prose read chiefly Bacon, John-
son, and Helps. Carlyle is hardly to be named
as a writer for ' beginners because his teacliing,
though to some of us virtually necessary, may to
others be hurtful. If you understand and like
him, read him ; if he offends yon, you arc not yet
ready for him, and perhaps may never be so ; at
all events, give him up, as you would sea -batlung
THINGS TO BE STUDIED
267
ft
4
if you found it hurt you, till you are stronger.
Clf fiction, read Sir Charles Grandison, Scott’s
novels, Miss Edgeworth's, and, if you are a young
lady, Madame de Genlis’, the French Miss
Edgeworth ; making these, I mean, your con-
stant companions. Of course you must, or will,
read other books for amusement once or twice ;
but you will find that these have an element of
perpetuity in them, existing in nothing else of
their kind ; while their peculiar quietness and
repose of manner will also be of the greatest value
in teaching you to feel the same characters in
art. Read little at a time, tr3fing to feel inter-
est in little things, and reading not so much for
the sake of the stor}^ as to get acquainted with the
pleasant people into whose company these
writers bring you. A common book will often
give you mucli amusement, but it is only a noble
book which will give \’ou dear friends. Re-
member, also, that it is of less importance to you
in your earlier 3^ears, that the books you read
should be clever, than that they should be right.
I do not mean oppressively or repulsively in-
structive : but that the thoughts they express
should be just, and the feelings they excite
generous. It is not necessary for you to read
the "wittiest or the most suggestive books : it is
better, in general, to hear what is already'- known,
and may be simply said. Much of the literature
of the present day, though good to be read by
persons of ripe age, has a tendency to agitate
rather than to confirm, and leaves its readers too
frequently in a helpless or hopeless indignation,
the worst possible state into which the mind
of youth can be thrown. It may, indeed, be-
come necessary for you, as you advance in . life,
to set your hand to things that need be altered
268 APPENDIX
in the world, or apply your heart chiefly to what
must be pitied in it, or condemned ; but, fo^a
young person, the safest temper is one of rever-
ence, and the safest place one of obscurity.
Certainly at present, and perhaps through all
your life, your teachers are wisest when they
make you content in quiet virtue, and that
literature and art are best for you which point
out, in common life and familiar things, the ob-
jects for hopeful labour, and for humble love.
THE END
%
%
INDEX
Accuracy, approximate, 20
iEschylus, 265 (and n.)
Amiens, Cathedral of, 48
Anatomy, 65
Angelico, 193, 255, 256, 257
Art, coarse, always bad, 18 ;
in matters of, rule danger-
ous to assert, 45 ; and
Nature, 68 ; enjoyment de-
sirable from, 71 ; judgment
of, founded on knowledge
of Nature, 79
Artists, distinction between
good and bad. lies in the
expression of three laws,
120, 121 ; list of, who are
always right, 256
Bacon, 266
Baxter’s British Flowering
Plants, 10
Bellini, John, 256
Bewack, 261 ; is the Bums of
Painting, 261
Blake, 261 ; his Book of Job,
261
Blue-black, 31
Body-colour, X49, 152, 153
Bottom, 239
Boughs, 203, 213
Bridges and Arches, igd-p
Bronzino, 257
Brooks, 1 14
Browning, Mrs., 266 ; her
Aurora Leigh, 262, 266
Browning, Robert, 266
Brush, mechanical use of the,
24
Byron, 266
Calame, 116
Caracci, 128, 257
Caravaggio, 234
Carlyle, 266
Casella, 239
Chartres, Cathedral of, 48
Chinese white, 148, 167 (n.)
Cimarosa, 185
Claude, 257
Clouds, 138-41
Cobalt, 31, 32
Coblentz, 189, igi, 193, 218
Coleridge, 266
Colour 143-S2, 226, 236 ;
flat, 4 (n.) ; hard cake, not
moist, should be used, 147;
list of desirable, 134 (n.)-
155 (n.) ; generally changes
as it diminishes, 163 ; gra-
dated and imgradated, 163 ;
choice and harmony of , 174 ;
distant, is pure colour, 1 79 ;
every, has an opponent ;
colour in Art, 219
Colouring, fine, is delicate
373
Colourist, the bad. incapable ol
expressing distance, 179-80
Composition, 182-6, 238
Consistency, law of, 22S-31
Continuity, law of, 193-9
Contours, falsification of, 81
Contrast, law of, 219-26
Correggio, 59 (n.), 149, 256,
257, 264
Crabbe, 266
Cruikshank, George, 75, 237,
259-60
Curvature, law of, 199-204
Curves, 215-7, 220, 225 ; are
more beautiful than
straight lines, 200
Dante, 80, 239, 262, 265
(and n.)
Dealers, dishonest, 78
Direction, 76, 77
Distance, the mist of, 151
Domenichino, 257
Draw completely and un-
falteringly whatever you
draw, 60
289
2/0
INDEX
Drawing, what is called, in
polite circles, 2 ; not to be
learnt without hard labour,
3 ; freedom in, 12 ; good
is an abstract of natural
facts, 232
Diirer, Albert, 74, 73, 77, 83,
96 (and n.), 219 (n.) ; his
‘ Melancholy 75 ; his
* Flight into Egypt’, 84.
DUreresque expression, 105 ;
detail, 106 ; study, 107
Dutch School, the, 150 (n.)
Economy of execution, 78
Edgeworth, Miss, 267
Ehrenbreitstein, 191, 201, 220
England, 114, 149
Engravers’ foregrounds are
bad, 73
Engravings, 69
Essay on Criticism, 221
Evenness of gradations, 37
Execution, habit of, 125
Exercise I, 4-10 ; 11, 10-13 ;
HI, 13-16; IV, 16-19 ; V.
19-21 ; VI, 21-3 ; VII, 25-
34; viii, 34-51; IX.
51-2 ; X, 53-86
Foliage, 87-96, 130 ; effect, 67
Foreshortening, 61
Form, vital facts of, 95
Flatness, 58
Flaxinan, 8<. 262 :63 (and n.)
Francia, 256
Gainsborough, 121, 256, 257
Gamboge, 31, 32, 33
Genlis, Madame de, 267
Giorgione, 49 (n.), 256
Giotto, 20, 193
Gradating, 13
Gradation, perception of, de-
ficient in all beginners, 14 ;
three processes by which
attained : (i) mixing while
the colo’ur is wet, 165-6 ;
(2) laying one colour over
another, 166-8; (3) breaking
one colour in small points
through or over another,
168-7,1
Gregory’s Secretalia, 223 (n.)
Grimm’s Gerynan Stories, 237,
359
Hake well’s Italy, 218, 22."^'
Fland-book knowledge, 71
liarding, J. D., 99 (n.), 116,
1 1 8, 125 ; his Lessons on
Trees, 117 (and n.) ; his tree.-—
drawing, 124; his Prin~
ciples and Practice of Art,
120 (n.)
Harmony, law of, 231-47
Helps, 266
Herodotus, 265 (and n.)
Holbein, 256
Homer, 265 (and n.)
Hunt, Holman, 14.7 (n.)
Hunt, WilUani, of the Old
Water Colour Society, 56
(and n.), 14S, 170, 256 (n.)
Hyacinth, 178
Incomprehensibility, 127
India-rubl)er and bread, re-
lative values of, 11 (n3'
Individuality, 127
‘ Innocence of the eye 5 (n.)
Interchange, law of, 226-S
Italy, 149'
Johnson, 266
Keats, 266
Lake, 31
Landscape, 109 ; English,
113; .French, 113; Swiss,
1 13
' Law of Harmony’, iSi (n.)
* Law of Radiation 94
Leaf-radiation, toh ; " struc-
ture, 210
Leaves, 67, , 203, 211-2, 2.14
(n.) ; mystery among the,
84; and trees, different rami-
fication of, 207
Leech, 75, 76
Leonardo da Vinci, 75, 78,
356, 257
Lewis, John, 148, 256 (n.), 259
Liber Siudiorum, 96, 100, lo'i,
102,. 104, 106, 127, 141 ;
, list of best i>lates in , 97 (n.)-
98 (n.)
Liberty, 123
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